The Truth About Forever
by dayuuuumgirl
Summary: She's from Athens, he's from Sparta.  She's the princess of the Holy Roman Empire, he's the poor pauper.  She's a nurse, he's a wounded Civil War soldier.  Over and over, they fall for each other, through different lifetimes, despite all odds.
1. Chapter 1: The Caves

Chapter One: The Caves

It's cold. So, so cold. The wind sweeps in, scattering dust and leaves all over the place. The fire flickers, then dims, and for a terrifying second, she's afraid the warmth will die out, and leave her here to freeze. The cold is unrelenting. It bites at her skin, her fingers, numbing her soul.

The fire flares back again, and she's so glad. She mutters inchoate, guttural sounds, as a thank you to whatever spirit she worships. Maybe even none at all. But that doesn't matter, because for now, she is content, with a fire, and a chilly cave – chilly, but not cold.

There are nuts scattered along the ground of the cave, the wind blowing them everywhere. She had gathered them earlier in the daytime, before the world was immersed in the unknown darkness, when the wild beasts roamed.

The nuts are good to eat. Berries are her favorite treats.

Her spear-stick lies abandoned in a corner of the cave. The tip is dull from scratching pictures in the walls of the cave. They are crude stick figures, detailing her daily adventures – gathering nuts, chasing buffalo, spearing fish. Normally, at this time of night she would be adding to the collection, but it is too cold today. Winter is approaching.

She peers down at the thick hair lining her arms and legs, along her whole body – they turn reddish-brown in the sun – and she wishes for some sort of covering for her body. It is so, so cold.

A huge gust of wind blows in, and the fire burns out, the embers still glowing hot. She cries out in cold and fear. It's a primitive sound. She can't put it into words – there is no language yet – but she has an impending premonition of imminent doom and death.

A bulging form appears at the front of the cave, siloetted against the twinkling night sky. She stiffens, then whimpers. Looks like the wild beasts have caught her. Without fire, she is weaponless.

The predator prowls closer, growling at her prone form. The jaws open wide, teeth gleaming – and then it flops on the ground beside her. It is dead; its blood permeating the dirt ground, staining everything dark red.

The fire suddenly flares to life again, and she sees her savior. It is a sun-man. It has to be. She has never seen anything like it. He holds flint rock in his hands, but that is not what makes him bright.

His hair along his body is golden. Hers is reddish-brown, like most primitives, but his body is like gold. The hair is fine yellow.

He is so beautiful.

He crouches down by the panther, dragging it to the side of the wall. Sun-man looks back at her, and she opens her arms, ape-like sounds escaping her throat. She is willing to share her cave, if he becomes her protector.

Sun-man runs into her arms, cooing softly, matching his sounds to hers. He will stay, and shield her from harm.

They know no language, now words, but there is something to describe what they are feeling. They feel loved, and protected, and they are no longer alone.

For the first time in her life, she also feels safe.

**:) Cavemen love. How sweet. Next chapter will be set in Ancient Egypt.**

**Title credits to **_**The Truth About Forever**_** by Sarah Dessen.**

**Review…pretty please!**


	2. Chapter 2: A Pharaoh No More

Chapter Two: A Pharaoh No More

He walks down the Nile riverbank, watching as people stop what they are doing to kneel before him in respect, calling him "Ra," the sun god, with the bird head. He has never understood why he is known as "Ra" – maybe it is because of his yellow hair. No one in Egypt has a hair color other than black. No one except him and this servant in his elaborate living quarters.

As the next pharaoh-in-line, he enjoys many luxuries and, of course, servants. They all have the same appearance – tan skin, black cat eyes, and black hair – which is probably why he is so attracted to _her_.

He sits down on a rock, remembering the first time he saw her.

It was because of her flaming red hair in a sea of black. Then her green, starling eyes met his golden orbs, and he couldn't get her out of his mind afterwards. Maybe she felt as out of place as he did.

He never spoke to her, or she to him, except to give her orders. He knew it was unseemly to be seen conversing with a servant of such low stature. Nevertheless, he found her enchanting, and she lived in his mind ever since.

Back at the river, he picks up a small rock and skips it across the water's edge, now think of the first time he'd spoken, actually spoken to her.

He had been attending his grandfather's embalming ceremony, before they enclosed him away forever in his glittering, towering pyramid. He watched as they slowly slid a long tool up his nose, twirl it a bit, then drag something slimy and long out, pouring it into a small container with Anubis's head carved on it, to be preserved

It took him a moment to realize that it was the old pharaoh's brains. He tasted bile in his mouth and felt like puking. Quickly adverting his eyes, his gaze landed on a small, red bundle hidden behind curtains.

He walked over and dragged his servant into a more secluded room. If she got caught, it would have been disastrous.

He opened his mouth to yell at her, and then saw that her eyes were red, and she was sniffling plaintively. New words poured out of his mouth. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with the most distraught expression he'd ever seen.

"He used to talk to me," she whispered, a tear trickling down the curve of her cheek. "He used to be my only friend. Even though I'm a servant, he used to listen and talk to me." She sniffed. "He used to be the only one who ever did that."

He surprised both of them by putting his arm around her, like he'd always dreamed of, and tugged lightly on her braids.

"I'll be here for you from now on."

They'd agreed to keep their acquaintance a secret. She'd sneak into his chambers at night, and he'd talk to her, like he never had before to anyone else, until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Those were the good times, he smiles wistfully, staring at the ripples his skipping rock made on the water. But then his smile drops as he remembers their most recent encounter.

She'd had tears in her eyes, the second time he'd seen her cry. Her red hair was wild and curly, fanning over her shoulders.

"I can't do this anymore," she sobbed. "I can't take this secrecy anymore. I love you." Both of them knew there was no hope for a servant and a pharaoh.

But now he realizes there is hope. There is always a choice in life. Always.

He loves her, and he will marry her, no matter what anyone else says. No matter who will spurn him, even if his parents disown him and exile him.

They can make a new life together, somewhere else. Mesopotamia, Israel, or even China, where they can be accepted. Where they can be together.

_No,_ he thinks, a wicked smile beginning to etch itself across his face. _No, I will not be a good boy anymore._

_I will not live under orders any longer. I will propose tonight, and we will escape right afterwards by the cloak of night._

_This is a good plan_, he thinks, hopping off the rock, beginning to sprint home. He ignores the cheers of "Long Live the young pharaoh!"

_I will be free, tied only to my red-haired beauty._

**And so, the badass Jace begins to form.**

**I know it's really boring so far, but it'll start to pick up in the next chapter or so.**

**There will be more dialogue coming, more action, less passive tense. And yes, I will use their names.**

**Next Chapter: Clary's from Athens, Jace is from Sparta. **

**(Spoiler Alert: Jace will be married…to another woman)**


	3. Chapter 3: What Cannot Be

**Bookninja15 pointed out to me that the Ancient Egyptians didn't save the brains…thank you for telling me! I didn't really pay attention in history class XD**

Chapter Three: What Cannot Be

_This is not something proper for a lady to do._

She trudges through the thick woods, thorns biting her feet, blistering them. They hurt so bad she wants to lie down and sleep right there on the ground.

_But I must escape from this horrible, horrible city-state. Sparta is the most vile, disgusting place for a woman to live._

The moonlight, provided by Artemis, dimly lights up the verdant path as she crashes through the bush.

Straight into the sharp tip of an arrow.

"Wayland! Don't let it fly! That's a girl!"

The archer lowers his bow, golden eyebrows shooting high on his forehead. Her mouth threatens to drop. He has to be Apollo.

"What are you doing here, at this time of night, little girl?"

Indignantly she stands up to her full height. The top of her head reaches the middle of his chest.

"I am not a little girl! For your knowledge, I am eighteen years of age!"

She hates the cocky smirk on his face. She wants to slap it off.

"Well, Hephaestus, I'll have you know that I'm almost twenty."

"Hephaestus?" She nearly screams. "That is such an insult, you narrow-minded, pig-headed, jack of an a – "

"That's right, I suppose," he muses, cutting her off. "Hephaestus is a lot uglier."

"What'd you catch, Wayland?" A man about the same age strides up, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes.

"A little girl, Lewis."

"For the love of Zeus, I am _not_ a little girl!" She stomps her foot in anger, much to her dismay of seeming even more like a child.

"Simon Lewis," the brown haired boy says, holding out his hand. He seems so much kinder and so much more polite.

"Clary Fray," she replies, shaking his hand. It's warm.

"Alright, you two lovebirds. Stop staring at each other like that. It's making me sick," a cocky voice says.

Simon doesn't seem to take offense. Instead, he grins lopsidedly and sheepishly at Clary. "This is the arrogant bastard of Sparta, Jace Wayland."

"The bravest, strongest, fastest, and greatest warrior in all of Greece. Not to mention the most handsome," Jace adds.

She can't help but feel the electricity zapping between them. Jace notices too, and stares at her with newfound curiosity.

Ironically, it is Simon who breaks them apart. He says, "Wayland, we should head on home. Your wife is expecting us."

_Wife?_

Clary feels something churning in the pit of her stomach, something she has never felt before. Jealousy.

"Right," Jace tears his gaze away from hers. "Later, Hephaestus." He winks, and strides confidently out of the clearing.

Simon lags behind a little, and smiles apologetically before leaving.

_Later_? Did he want to see her again? Something about him magnetizes her. She wants to know more about him.

_Huh,_ she thinks. _Maybe there _is_ something good in Sparta after all._

In the end, she stays in Sparta. She keeps an eye out for him, but she never sees him. Not once.

But the next full moon, a queer feeling draws her to the woods again. She doesn't know where she's going; instinct calls. She arrives in the same clearing she met Jace and Simon, and stops in her tracks.

Because there he is. Standing there, head tipped back, gazing at the moon. He is still as gorgeous as she remembers.

At the sound of her feet, Jace snaps to attention, his golden glare landing on her.

"Hey, Hephaestus." He doesn't sound surprised to see her.

"Why are you here?"

His features soften, and a look of wonder crosses his face. "Something drew me here. A conscience."

Clary's breath catches as she says, "Me too."

"Yeah?" He stares at her and she sees something light up in his eyes. Almost as if he isn't aware of it, his hand reaches out and brushes the hair away from her face. "I can't get you out of my mind either. What were you doing that night?"

"I was running away," she answers shortly.

"Running away?" He seems amused. "From…?"

"Sparta."

"Sparta," Jace repeats, surprised.

"Yes," Clary confirms. "Sparta. My parents died, and I had to leave Athens and come live with my only uncle in Sparta, which is the most repulsive place I have ever heard of! Is there anything more preposterous than young women being trained to fight? That's the men's job! We don't need to have muscles and be toned and tan."

Jace unexpectedly grins. "I like a woman who speaks her mind," is all he says.

They agree to meet there every full moon. Clary can't put a finger on it, but there is something between them. Something…_alive_, which makes her heart pound and her greens eyes sparkle.

One time, he asks her a question that leaves her gaping like a fish on land.

"_What?"_

"I said, 'Are you married?'" He repeats, annoyed.

"N-No." Clary's cheeks are flaming red, and she's glad for the shadows of night.

A look of relief flies over his face, but instead he murmurs, "But you're almost nineteen. That's, like, _grandma's_ age for marriage."

She can't help but notice how close he's standing to her. She has to continuously remind herself that he's married, he's _married_.

_To another woman_.

"Lucky for you," Jace continues, oblivious to her shallow breathing and taking a step closer. They are pressed together against the tree. Jace takes a deep breath before speaking. "I've got the perfect guy for you."

Clary's heart is pounding.

"Remember Simon? He's not married yet either."

All she hears is silence. His voice is like a tiny hum in the back of her mind. Of course. _Simon_.

Jace looks pained.

A month later she's at the alter, dressed in a flowing gown, standing across from Simon as they are joined in union. Clary involuntarily sneaks a peek at Jace, who is sitting next to a very muscular woman, his wife. He stares back painfully, showing her exactly how tortured he is, how much he wants her.

_Your expectations were too high_, she silently chides herself as Simon takes her arm. She barely hears the cheers from the crowd. _What did you expect anyway? His name would have gone down in shame if he divorced or left._

As they glide down the grassy path, hand in hand, all the old memories of the forest cloud her vision. The memories of their hugs, chats, heartfelt exchanges. She remembers sitting side-by-side with him, listening to him rant about his troubles. She remembers their first kiss, how she was pressed fully against him.

But that is the past. Past, precious memories, like captured snowflakes. They are fleeting, and fast, but unlike snowflakes, you can keep your memories. You can always relive them in your mind.

Thinking this, Clary turns back once more to look at Jace, finding his eyes pinned on her. She smiles softly, accepting the truth for what it is, for what is has been all along.

He can never be hers.

…**at least not in this life. /3 *heartbroken sobs***

**Well, I had to give Simon a chance! And since Jace is married, I don't think anyone divorced back then.**

**I may not have all my facts correct, and that goes for every chapter.**

**Note: **

**Hephaestus is the god of fire. He's crippled and ugly, which is why Clary takes it as an insult. Her red hair reminded Jace of fire.**

**Apollo is the god of sun, medicine, and a bunch of other stuff. He is supposedly hot, with blond hair, according to the Percy Jackson series. LOL**

**Artemis is Apollo's twin, goddess of the hunt and the moon, and the virgin goddess.**

**Has anyone seen the Clockwork Prince's cover? Frankly, I think it sucks. No offense to CC, but Jem could have looked so much better. His face looks like it was directly cut and pasted in, and seriously? The hair? Jem is around 18…his hair shouldn't be like Einstein's. Despite all that, I'm still so excited for Clockwork Prince! What did you guys think of the cover?**

**The shiny button down there beckons you…review!**


	4. Chapter 4: A Fairy Tale

Chapter Four: A Fairy Tale

Princess Clarissa prances merrily through the grand halls of the castle, her head tossed high and her hair a dazzling waterfall of red ringlets cascading down her back. Her dress is very puffy, and the strings are laced every so tight, so that her waist seems as small as possible. It is already tiny; _she_ is very tiny, like a doll dressed up for a party.

Her personality is anything but a doll's docile ways, however. She is her father's favorite daughter, and spoiled thoroughly, always getting her way, always getting the best of the pack. Because of that, she is very outspoken, very feisty, and very, very bossy.

The footman calls to her, and Clarissa elegantly glides to the carriage, like her tutor had taught her to. She is on her way to meet her father, Charlemagne, the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, who has just come back from an interminable visit to Spain.

He helps her onto the carriage, where several guards are already mounted, and snaps the reigns of the horses, and they jolt away, neighing. Along the road, workers hurriedly get out of the way. They bow low to Clarissa, honoring her. She is not only a favorite of her father, but also of the public.

Clarissa is thinking this, waving cheerfully at the people, blowing kisses to the farmers, just as the carriage jerks to a sudden stop. Clarissa screams, tumbling forward. The guards yell in surprise, and reach to help her. The footman immediately jumps down and rushes to her side, mumbling apologies and words of "that dumb oaf" among other insults at whoever caused the trouble. Impatiently Clarissa waves them off, climbing down to examine the blockade in the road.

The first thing she sees is melons. Melons everywhere, scattered winter melons all over the road. Most of them are split, and rolling around, the white insides smiling through the light green shells. Flies are buzzing overhead, laughing at the excellent opportunity.

In the middle of the mess stands a boy. A young man, actually, not much older than her own sixteen years of age. He is dressed in a dirty shirt which can pass for a rag, but his good looks are impressive anyway. She wonders how good he would look if he is dressed in sharp vests, with twinkling brass metals and stiff collars, like all her other suitors. This guy surpasses all of them added together by a mile.

Clarissa shakes her head a little to clear the thoughts. She thinks of the second reason her father has asked her to meet him. He has brought home her future husband, to whom she is to become engaged today. By the picture of him he had sent her, her suitor looks prim, sure, but he also looks like a forty year old man, balding, black-toothed, and wrinkly. She doesn't want to have to kiss those disgusted, sagging lips of the Spanish king.

She had protested, but her father was obstinate on this choice. She is getting too old anyway – she had rejected all the other princes – and by marrying this man, her father Charlemagne will be able to expand his empire and rule parts of Spain. She wishes that this boy was a prince.

But princes would never scowl like the scowl that is fixed on this man's face. Not a single one had scowled when she demurred their hand in marriage – although some were very rude.

The scowl on this man's face is terrifying. His eyes are a queer color. They are gold, but she hardly has any time to think about that…they are staring at her with such a murderous intensity Clarissa shrinks back.

"Well?" The man demands angrily. His voice is velvety. "Are you going to do something about it, or continue standing there gaping like an idiot?" Without waiting for a reply, he continues haranguing. "Because of your carriage, a clumsy inept ape happened to crash into me and my barrel of melons, knocking them to the ground. Now look at them! They are useless! Do you know how much back-breaking work that took? No, by your soft, unblemished skin I should think not!"

The guards immediately pounce on him, grabbing his arms and twisting them behind his back. The man doesn't even grimace in pain.

"You don't speak to her in this way!" One of them growls.

"Do you even know who I am?" Clarissa cries indignantly.

"Why I do," he says snidely. "_Princess _Clarissa Fairchild, the spoiled brat of King Charlemagne, the _tyrant_."

Clarissa is enraged, but not as much as she is curious. Who is this man? Doesn't he know not to speak like this in the presence of royalty, much less talk badly about them?

The guards twist the man's arms even further, and bind them with a rope. "You will get thrown in the dungeons for the dragons to eat you, boy! Footman, come here," one of them orders. "Fifty whips on this boy, right here."

The man's expression remains indifferent. His eyes taunt hers.

"Never mind this," Clarissa says, gesturing to the binds. The guard incredulously stares at her as he removes the bindings. The man shrugs his shoulders, loosening them, and massages his wrists. "I suppose this man is only upset about the loss of his melons. I say have him take a ride with us, accompany us on our ride as recompense."

"Oh, dear Lord," the man interjects, shuddering sarcastically. "I would hate to be seen riding around with you, dear Princess. A man of such low stature as me would no doubt ruin your reputation with my shaggy clothes."

"It is quite alright," Clarissa says generously, ignoring the sarcasm oozing from his voice. "Come, join us. I will pay back your melons' value in gold shillings."

At the sound of money, the man grins, and climbs onto her carriage without bothering to wipe the grime off his hands. The guards shoot her startled and bewildered glances, but she simply smiles benevolently and with the help of the footman, climbs onto the carriage after him. She settles herself neatly by his side while the guards stand in place behind the carriage.

"What is your name?" Clarissa asks as the carriage begins rolling once more.

"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern," the man replies.

"Please to be your acquaintance, Sir Morgenstern," Clarissa says politely.

"My pleasure," Jonathan says. "But please, call me Jace."

"Jace it is. Here," Clarissa unpins her brooch from her dress and places it in his palm. It is gold and lavishly embroidered. Made of pure gold, it is rather heavy. "To repay you."

Jace handles the brooch delicately, tracing his fingers lightly over the design. "I could never take this away from you."

"Take it," she says firmly, wrapping his fingers around it. "I want you to have it."

He stares at her for a minute longer. "Alright," he says finally. "But I shall sell it immediately. I would never want to be seen with the royal mark."

Clarissa feels her anger bubbling up again. "Why, you little…little…"

Jace raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Profanity rules, Princess?"

"Clarissa to you!"

"Calm down, then, Clarissa," he experiments. "I thought royalty would want to be addressed as their titles."

"Yes," Clarissa admits, "but you give 'Princess' such a dreadful twist that I shudder to hear you speak it! Whatever is the reason for not keeping my precious keepsake?"

"Well, a poor pauper like me would be accused of stealing for possessing such valuable jewelry, decorated with the Princess's seal on it."

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop belittling my family!" Clarissa fumes. She has never met a man so infuriating yet alluring. It frightens her, the way he is making her feel. "You speak of royalty as if it is the worst thing possible. As if no one would want to be a royal. As if we were evil!"

Jace looks at her with almost pity. "Clarissa," he says gently, all of the sarcasm erased. "Not everyone favors royalty. Some people want to go back to the way things were before. Before they were controlled by the King, before they had to pay taxes and tribute. Not everyone likes being united. Your father is seen as a tyrant for my people! He wants land, and power, and cares for nothing else! If he only _looked_, taken a second to _look_ at how we farmers are fairing, he would see that we're dying! We need money to raise a farm! To plant crops! The wars he fought have stripped us of our money, left us with only a dearth of supplies!"

He pauses, suddenly aware of who he is talking to. His mouth drops a little as he takes in her pale, drained face. "Pardon me, Princess," Jace murmurs, ducking his head.

"No," Clarissa says. She needs to hear what the people think of her family. All her life she has been shielded from reality; she needs to know the truth. "Continue. I need to hear this."

Jace double-checks with her before continuing. "I fought in those bloody wars for your father. It was the worst experience of my life. He promised us warriors that after the war, he would send aid and money to our families, to help us recooperate. That never happened. He didn't care a single shit about us. Our lives meant nothing to him. Only power did."

Clarissa can't speak. To hear her father be described as this lust-thirst man does not at all fit with her kind, doting father. "I am sorry," she rasps at last.

"Never mind all this gibberish," Jace says, his façade of indifference back. "Tell me about your grand life and all your balls you've attended."

Clarissa snorts, most unlady-like. Her hand flies over her mouth. "Oh dear," she gasps. "My tutor will kill me!"

She timidly peers into Jace's eyes, expecting to see some sort of disapproval, only to find amusement glittering in his golden orbs. He begins snickering, then trying to smother his chuckles, and finally laughs outright. He clutches his stomach, laughing freely, without restraint. Clarissa has never seen anyone laugh without abandon. Ladies are allowed to laugh in only high, short pitched giggles, and gentlemen only chuckle, but never bellow with laughter. She rather likes this warm, full sound. Pretty soon, Clarissa is laughing too, and it feels so good.

They talk along the way, enjoying each other's company. She quickly finds out that Jace lives only a few miles outside of the city, and that while Jace is very arrogant and sadistic, he also hides a kind and loving nature. She thinks that he is so much handsomer, so much kinder, so much better than all her former suitors. They pale in comparison to him and his golden locks and laughing eyes.

Before she knows it, the carriage is nearing the station. In the distance, she can see her father's flag billowing in the breeze and the soldiers lined up all around him.

"Your majesty," one of the guards bellows. "I have sighted your father and another man. Shall we continue onwards?"

Clarissa grimaces. "Yes, please proceed. That man is to be my future husband."

Beside her, Jace jerks upward, jolting the carriage. Clarissa shrieks with delight at the unbalanced seesaw swing. She has never met anyone like Jace, who did whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased. The guards huff in disgust.

"That old sack of bags?" Jace's lip curls back. "A pretty, young girl like you is getting betrothed to a wrinkly, wizened old animal? How is this possible?"

"It is for diplomatic purposes," Clarissa sighs. "I had no choice."

"We always have a choice in life," Jace says adamantly, and she thinks she has heard that phrase somewhere before. "Always."

"Well, not this time," Clarissa says, resigned. "It is time to meet my future…old sack of bags, as you say it." Her lips curve into a wry smile as Jace grins back at her.

"Clarissa!" Charlemagne bellows warmly as the carriage rolls near. "How I have missed you!"

"I have missed you dearly too, Father!" She calls.

"This is Sir William VIII, as I have told you about." He gestures to his right, and there stands a short, rotund man, his forehead shiny and bald. He looks even older than the picture she had received.

"Pleased to be your acquaintance, Sir," Clarissa murmurs, stretching her hand out to be kissed. His lips are scratchy and rough. "You look exactly as handsome as you were in the photo Father sent me."

She barely contains a squeak as Jace digs his elbow into her side. She kicks him in the shin, where Charlemagne can't see.

Sir William VIII smiles, showing his blackened, crooked teeth. "Sir William Andre Calisto. Please call me Andre."

"Alright Sir Andre."

Andre turns to Charlemagne, grinning. "She's so shy!" He gushes. "But never mind that, sweetie pie," he says to Clarissa, who feels like puking. "When we are married, you'll feel much more intimate, and we can call each other by our first names." He reaches for her hand, readying to propose.

"Oh!" Clarissa gasps. "Father," she says breathlessly, not daring to look at Jace, who is stiff beside her. "May this wait a little while? I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

Her father looks annoyed. "Are you sure, Clarissa? This is an excellent opportunity."

"Yes, yes," Andre says, reaching to grasp her hand again. "Princess Fairchild, may I have this honor of – "

She jerks her hand back, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry," she says, and this time her voice is firm. "Perhaps another day."

"I have never heard of anything like that. Now, may I continue…"

"Sir," Jace interrupts, his voice hard. "If she doesn't wish to, please do not force her." There is an implied _or else_.

Charlemagne's gaze cuts to Jace, noticing him for the first time. "And just who are you, young man?"

"Jonathan Christopher," Jace replies in a steely tone. He doesn't say his last name, and Clarissa doesn't refute. She knows they are all treading in dangerous water, but she is so glad Jace stepped in to save her.

_Like my knight in shining armor_, she thinks.

Charlemagne turns to Clarissa. "Who is this pauper, Clarissa?"

"We ran into on the way here, Father. There was a little accident and he helped me clean up." One guard coughs and she shoots him a death glare, effectively shutting him up. "He was such a gentleman I had to reward him."

She sees Charlemagne's resolve waver. "Alright," he says gruffly, still giving Jace a cold glare. "We'll drop him off at the city and he can walk the way home. Then we will discuss…this little dilemma."

"Oh, Father," Clarissa entreats. "He was so kind! Let me send him home and then I will meet you at the palace."

"Very well," Charlemagne permits. "Come home quickly though."

Andre's chilling look sends shivers up her spine.

…

"You really _are_ getting married to that old bag of sacks, aren't you?" Disapproval is prominent in his eyes and his face is set in a deep scowl.

"I suppose so."

"What you need," he growls, "is someone who appreciates you for who you are, not look at you like you're a delicious meal. Someone closer to your age, someone who'll make you happy. Someone _right_."

"Got a certain person in mind?"

"Maybe," he drawls.

"We'll see what I can do about it."

And she is rewarded with a smile – and a kiss. It's heaven.

…

"I'm on my last strings with you, Clarissa Fairchild," Charlemagne thunders, having finally trapped Clarissa in a chamber. It is three weeks since he has arrived back. She has done her best to postpone the betrothal, concurring excuse after excuse, while the angered Andre accepted with a tight smile.

She has also been meeting secretly with Jace out in the woods. He comes for her by moonlight and together they stow away into the woods, laughing and kissing, comforting each other. She has never been so happy in her life. Every time she sees him is a new experience; he teaches her to let go, to have fun. She is finally _living_ her life.

"This cannot go on any longer, Clarissa," her father orders. "This must stop today. Sir William VIII will have your hand tonight."

"Father," Clarissa begins hestitantly. "Father, I want to marry someone else."

"Aha!" Charlemagne cries. "So this is the reason behind all of this. Who is it? Is it that pauper? What was his name…Chris?"

"Uhmm…perhaps."

"Absolutely not! You will not marry a pauper and live your life as a farmer!"

Used to getting her way, Clarissa cannot believe her father has denied her, and juts out her chin. "I refuse to marry that old sack of bones!"

The look on her father's face could be comical if she is not so scared. Steam is literally blowing from his ears. "That old sack of bones!" Charlemagne thunders. "Disrespectful little wrench! Do you know how hard I worked to get this offer? You _will_ marry him, or off with your head!"

Clarissa's bottom lip quivers. She does not recognize her father anymore. Her father would never threaten her like this. Her father complies with her every wish.

Without another word, she grabs a black cloak from a startled, passing maid, and runs blindly out the palace. It is raining hell outside, the rain whipping her face, stinging her eyes. Clarissa stumbles madly into the forest behind her house, where she and Jace once met. She hears her father bellowing for guards to capture her, and she runs even harder.

She tries desperately to remember Jace's cottage.

By the time she gets there, her dress is in tears; the black cloak drenched and ripped, everything soggy. She knocks on the door, glancing fearfully behind her, searching for flashes of armor.

Jace opens the door, his eyes flying wide at the sight. "Oi," he breathes. "Did all hell break loose?"

Suddenly, Clarissa is afraid Jace does not want her anymore. After all, she is not a rich princess anymore, or attired in pretty, flowing gowns.

"Guards," she splutters.

Jace comprehends immediately, dragging her in and shutting the door behind her. She notices that he lives alone.

He pulls her into a bear hug, ignoring how wet she is. "There, there," he murmurs, smoothing her hair. "It's alright."

"My father wants me to marry Andre!" She sobs into his chest. "He said that if I refuted, he would behead me!" She bursts into more tears.

Jace's muscles grow taut. "Behead you!" He rasps.

"So I ran away," Clarissa continues, now looking up at him through her coppery eyelashes. They are stuck together in little triangles by the rain. "I want to be with no one but you." The look in Jace's eyes is enough to render her speechless. He bends to kiss her, but she pulls away. "You don't care? You don't mind that I'm not rich anymore? Not pretty in ball gowns, or make up?"

"Oh, Clarissa," Jace says gently, his voice raw with emotion. "I couldn't care less. You are beautiful even if you are dressed in rags. You will always be beautiful. I don't care about what you wear, what you look like or who your parents are. I care about _you_."

He ducks his head. "I love _you_," he murmurs against her lips. "I'll love you _forever_."

Clarissa opens her mouth to reply; the words are at the tip of her tongue, when suddenly, Jace collapses into her like a dead weight. He is so heavy she stumbles back and almost falls. Everything is slack. His body is slack, and growing colder by the moment.

Colder, except for a sticky, warm fluid seeping through her fingers at where she is clutching him.

Warm, sticky fluid.

"_Jace?_" She screams, livid. "_JACE!"_

There is no reply.

Clarissa's eyes fly over his shoulder, and sees no other than her father with Andre grinning evilly beside her. Charlemagne's hand is still raised, and both look smug.

"Well," Andre says, breaking the silence. "That was easy."

Clarissa's vision grows red with rage.

"Come on," her father urges. "Time for the ceremony."

Suddenly, she no longer sees the caring father she knows. She sees as Jace sees him, as all the peasants view him. As a blood-thirsty, power-craving tyrant. He doesn't care about her at all. He just wants reign over Spain, over all of Europe and beyond.

Clarissa looks at Jace, fallen on the ground, dead and cold. The sword protrudes form his back.

She thinks of the _I love you_ she never got to say.

She wants to feel one more electric kiss from Jace.

Without him in her life, she can never be happy.

_I love you. I'll love you forever._

"No," Clarissa says, pulling the sword out of Jace. "You will not gain Spain."

_To death 'til us part._

Charlemagne's mouth opens in shock, and he makes a move to lunge forward.

She never hears his scream. The blade hits home.

**Well, they can't always have happy endings you know… at least they died together right?**

**This was long…almost 4000 words! (: **

**I know this might be a little too much to ask for, but I live for reviews; without them, I'll die, like Jace and Clary. xD**

**Next chapter…Wild West.**


	5. Chapter 5: Shot Through the Heart

**I lied. This chapter is actually about the Civil War. I'm sorry. But I **_**promise **_**next chapter will be the Wild West. Title credits to Shot Through the Heart by Bon Jovi.**

Chapter Five: Shot Through the Heart

Clary winces at the wound. It's terrible. Blood is scattered everywhere, the flesh swollen angrily, a bone protruding out. It's hot, and flies buzz eagerly over the wound, looking for the right time to attack. With an annoyed hand, Clary waves them away.

She meets the eyes of the soldier. His black hair and blue eyes make him very handsome, but they speak of pain, his forehead creased and lined with sweat. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than she was – and she was only seventeen.

"Is it okay?" He grunts, pain underlying each word.

She debates whether to tell him the truth or not. Tucking in a stray piece of her red curls, she plasters on a bright, soothing smile. "I don't know yet, honey."

"Morgenstern!"

Clary pats the man's hair before straightening. "Yes?"

Her commander, Clara Barton, rushes over to her.

"Patient in Tent B has a bullet in his core. You're the best at those injuries. I'll take over this station."

"This patient needs an amputated leg," Clary mutters quietly, out of the patient's earshot.

Barton grimaces in sympathy and nods.

Tent B isn't too far away. Gathering up her skirts, Clary runs as fast as she can. No time can be wasted; this Civil War is too costly.

She pushes open the tent flap and the awaiting nurse points the way. In the cot lies another young man, this one with tousled blond curls. His face, although slack and pale, is breath-taking. _Too beautiful for war_, she thinks.

Quickly, Clary begins to arrange supplies, gulping at the thought that he is already dead. She gives a relieved sigh when she sees the faintly beating pulse at his throat.

_Core wound_, Clara Barton had said. Gingerly lifting up his blood-soaked uniform, she doesn't have to reach far until she sees the bullet. It is at his kidney.

_Thank God,_ she breathes. _People can live with one kidney._

Clary gulps again. This time it is because of his washboard abs. Every muscle is outlined and defined clearly. She wonders if they are as hard as they look.

_Stupid!_ She chides herself, mentally slapping her head. _This is _not_ the time to be thinking those thoughts_. _He's dying!_

The man hisses sharply at the first touch, and opens his eyes. They are bright gold. Clary is overwhelmed by a sense of deja vu.

"Good," he smiles, even though the pain shows in his eyes. "I was hoping for a younger, hotter nurse than Barton."

_What an ass!_

"So pretty lady," he tries again, lifting a hand to her burning cheeks. "Are you blushing because of what I said, or because you get to work with this hunk of a man?"

He is incredibly hot, even in pain and covered with blood.

"How can you joke like this?" Clary uses tweezers and plucks out the bullet shards.

The blonde winces in pain. "Easy there! Easy."

"Suck it up," Clary says before she can stop herself. Immediately, she slaps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry."

He takes no offense, instead giving her a cocky smile. He stretches out a hand. "Jace Herondale."

Clary laughs at his formal introduction. "Clarissa Morgenstern."

"Clarissa," he experiments, rolling her name off his tongue as she cleans his wound. The bullet is out, but she still needs to clear off the blood.

"This will sting," Clary warns, lifting a wet rag over the wound. "You can squeeze my hand if you want to."

"What kind of sissy do you think I am?" Jace scoffs, but takes her hand anyway.

She tries her best to be gentle, but he still can't contain the hoarse shout that escapes. Jace's hands are killing her fingers. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes shut. Clary mops up the rest of the blood, throwing the now-red rag into a bucket.

Jace lies on the bed, panting, his chest hitching up and down. Gingerly, Clary untwines her fingers, and his eyes tell her he's sorry. She smiles knowingly, and wipes his sweat-coated forehead.

He is like a fallen angel.

"I think Clary fits you better," he gasps, catching his breath.

Clary freezes, hands on the long roll of bandages. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That my name is Clary."

Jace frowns. "You said it was Clarissa."

"It is," Clary says, regaining her composure and beginning to wrap the bandage around his waist. He sighs at the cool feeling. "Everyone calls me Clary, though."

She looks at his closely. His face rings a bell in her mind, but she draws a blank. She feels like she knows him from somewhere.

"Did you happen to see a guy my age with black hair and blue eyes?" Jace asks. "He was injured too."

"Was he shot in the leg?"

"I think."

"Yes. He was my previous patient."

Jace grabs her arm. "_Was?_"

_Oh,_ Clary realizes her mistake. "Don't worry, he's alive."

Jace visibly deflates. "Good."

"Is he your friend?"

"Yeah, Lightwood's my friend." Jace closes his eyes, and Clary has an odd feeling of disappointment in not seeing those bright golden orbs. "He was shot while trying to drag me to safety."

He grabs her hand without opening her eyes.

"Make sure he doesn't die, Clary."

"I promise." Clary gets up to leave for the next patient. She knows he needs to rest, but she doesn't what to leave him. "Now, _you_ promise _me_ that you'll keep that wound clean. If it becomes infected, you can die."

"Clary," Jace whispers, fishing something out of his pocket. "If I die, give this to Lightwood." It's a bundle of letters, addressed to different people.

"Jace…"

"Clary, please." He looks so tired. So, so tired. Terror seizes her. For some reason, she can't stand not having his guy in her life. She doesn't want him to die.

"You won't die, Jace." Her voice is firm, absolutely certain. At her tone, he opens his eyes.

"You don't know, Clary." But there's hope shining in his eyes.

"You'll die over my dead body."

Nonetheless, he presses the bundle into her hands. "Just in case."

Clary slaps it against his chest. "Jace Herondale, if you speak one more word about dying, I will personally stab this pair of tweezers into your heart."

Jace grins. "Clary," he says, lifting his hand with the letters. "Can you –" she braces herself, readying the tweezers "– kiss me?"

Without waiting for her response, he drops the letters, grabs her shirt and pulls her to his mouth. His head tilts back and his fingers weave into her hair, pulling her closer against him. Clary has never felt like this before. Her tongue probes a raw part in his mouth and he whimpers, kissing her harder. She grins as he sucks greedily on her lip. She has never pegged Jace to be the type of guy to whimper.

"Yep," Clary says, pulling away. He looks disappointed at the loss of her warmth, and licks his lips. "You will _definitely_ live."

**I know, I know. It was boring. I got so bored writing it and had writer's block. But I promise, the Wild West will be more exciting. I've got everything planned out for it.**

**Also, I'm putting the outcome of the next chapter up for vote. Do you think Clary and Jace have had enough suffering and deserve a happy ending? Or should it be another tragic death? (but I can make it a happy tragic death if you want both. Happy tragic death XD)**

**Review…**


	6. Chapter 6: Wanted Dead or Alive

**This chapter is written a little differently…**

Chapter Five: Wanted – Dead or Alive

There is a myth popular to the West, back of the time of the Wild West, when the terrain was untamed and the West was unsettled. Back to the time when the cattle roamed free and the cowboys ruled. Passed down from generation to generation, it is the tale of two star-crossed lovers. Perhaps you have heard of it. Anyways, this is how it began…

The dust swirls up like a funnel cloud, twisting through the town in an incalculable dance, down streets, into stores, and past wooden houses. It is like a tiny twister, but Clary Fray knows better. She's lived through real, terrifying tornadoes. After all, she _does_ live in Tornado Alley.

This little dust devil only signals the approaching riders, back from their monthly trip of herding the cattle.

As if reading her mind, the ground rumbles as a string of thirty lean, hard-ridden men plow into town on their wild horses, pulling the reigns to jerk to a stop, the horses whinnying and jumping. They are all tan from the sun, dressed in plaid shirts and brown leather boots; some of them carry lassoes; a few of them are unshaven.

They are the cowboys. Magnificent, in all their glory.

With a feeling of patriotism known only to Texas, Clary runs out of the store she is currently in to welcome them back. Her eyes search excitedly for a certain young man – her childhood best friend, who she has not seen since he rode off with the cowboys three years ago.

Immediately, she spots him. _Oh!_ She thinks, worried that he doesn't recognize her. _He has grown so much_.

He is still good-looking, but his face is tanned brown from the sun, despite the protection from his rogue, pointy hat. He is chewing on a piece of long grass.

He catches sight of Clary and a huge smile breaks out over his features. Ignoring the annoyed twitches from the other men, he gallops over. It is then that Clary realizes they are not here to stay. They are on a mission.

"Clary!" He jumps down from his horse and hugs her. Clary breathes him in deeply. He smells of dirt and dust and wild plains. Just like Texas. Like home. She has missed him so much.

"Will," Clary sighs, returning his embrace. "You look so different."

"Aye," Will grins, swiping his ink black hair out of his eyes. "Y'all grown up too. My little redhead, now a little woman. How's Mother?"

"Doin' fine."

A shot suddenly rings out throughout the town, silencing everyone. The horses jump up and down, frightened, and the cowboys hold onto the reigns, calming them down. A few more shots ring out from one of the Colt 45 revolvers the cowboys love to have tucked in their belts.

Everyone in town bursts out onto the streets to see the commotion. A few people scream.

"Don't y'all panic!" The cowboy holding the upright pistol, Jake Kelmer, shouts. "It's only me!"

His voice, hardened by work over time, rings out over the mob. Soon, the ball is in his court.

"We're looking for an outlaw. Last town eight miles up said he was hiding out here in Shantytown. He's a dangerous fellow: stole all the riches an' left the past few towns he's visited penniless. Even killed a man who got in his way. Just 'ter warn y'all to be on the lookout and keep everything safe. Watch yer children."

Murmurs erupt in the crowd. "Here? In our town?" A woman cries.

"Yes, ma'am."

"But we've got nothin'!" A few angered voices shout.

"He'll take anything," Jake says as some cowboys second this. "He's a ruthless outlaw. And slippery, too. We've been chasing him down since Oklahoma. He's ravaged the towns up there too."

"Is that true, Will?" Clary asks, clutching his hand in fear. She has no one left in her family; her father and mother both passed away due to an outbreak of a disease two years ago, and her brother, Jonathan, died while working for the cowboys.

"Sure as death," Will confirms. "We'll be searching around town for the next couple of weeks. Surround this place, and make sure he can't get out."

"What does he look like?"

"Tall, lean, tanned. Typical cowboy," Will cocks his head, thinking. "They're posting up fliers and posters. Make sure you take a look." He kisses her on the cheek in goodbye as he rides away with the other cowboys to barricade the town.

Clary sighs as she trudges into her house. She hangs her dusty shawl on the door and grabs her pail, hiking downstairs to refill her tub of water for the night. Her mind is on the outlaw.

Faintly, she hears the house beside hers being searched by the cowboys.

She opens the door to the cellar, and notices that the broom is out of its closet. She goes and picks it up, and gropes in the semi-darkness for the door. It is dusty and dark and the door is hard to see.

When her fingers finally latch onto the tiny interstice between the door, Clary pulls, and reaches in to toss the broom in, when she is suddenly dragged in. Her intruder reaches behind her and slams the door closed.

Clary opens her mouth and screams.

A hand closes down on her mouth just as she hears upstairs the front door being busted open and footsteps clatter around, calling to see if anyone is home. She tries to shriek but her voice is muffled.

The hand on her mouth is hard, calloused. Definitely male.

Faint murmurs upstairs grow louder and she hears footsteps descending the stairs. _Yes_.

Clary begins to make muffled shouts, squirming against the intruder, who flattens her against the wall of the small closet, his whole body pressing into every inch of hers. He's warm, and her heart is pounding.

His mouth suddenly crashes down onto hers, and he's kissing her. At first Clary's too shocked to respond, and just lets him take over. His mouth is soft on hers, and his tongue grazes her bottom lip. He angles his head for better access, his nose pressed against hers.

Clary feels like her heart is going to explode. She's drowning in his kiss, and gasping for air, but it feels good. So, so good. She's never been kissed like this before, and before she knows it, she's kissing him back. Her arms are twined around his neck, crushing him to her, as he pokes around her mouth.

When he pulls back, Clary is suddenly cold, and she stretches on her tiptoes, reaching for him. She feels him smile against her mouth as he peppers soft kisses on her lips.

He tears himself away and opens the door. A sudden flash of light flickers on as the stranger – who she now sees dressed in rough, blue Levis jeans, a red, plaid shirt, and a bandana, all topped with a curving cowboy hat – strikes a match and lights the lantern on the wall. The cowboys are gone; Clary hadn't even heard them leave.

When the stranger turns around, Clary's jaw drops to the ground. Literally.

_Oh, my God. Tell me I've died and gone to heaven._

He's not much older than she is. His eyes are glowing golden, and his blond curls, hidden under the hat, remind her of a lion. His jaw is strong, his mouth full, until it curves into a taunting smile.

"Good," he muses, rubbing his jaw. "I kissed a hot gal, not some old lady."

Clary flushes, thinking of that kiss. "I do not kiss like an old lady."

"True," he agrees, smirking. "You kiss like a frog."

"You kiss like you're trying to swallow an apple!" _Lies_.

He grins cockily, and she tries hard not to swoon on sight. "Queer. Do you know how many gals would vie for a kiss like that from me?"

"Who are you anyways? And what are you doing in my house?"

"Sebastian Verlac." The cowboy sticks out his hand. "Although I hope we're past formalities, since our last…encounter." Sebastian grins, and plants a kiss of her swollen lips.

"Straight for the mouth I see," Clary scoffs, jerking to the side. "Sorry, but I'm not looking to be your booty call."

Sebastian pulls away with something akin to hurt on his face. "Wow. Three minutes after meeting me, you judge me?"

"No one expects to have some scumbag hiding in their house and kissing them in the dark!"

"I'm sorry," Sebastian apologies. "I'm a runaway from my parents' plantation in Georgia. I'm hungry and looking for a place to spend the night. If you'll let me stay…ma'am."

"Clary," Clary says. "I feel old when you call me 'ma'am.'"

His smile is bright enough to blind her.

…

On her way home from visiting Will the next day, Clary passes by one of the posters. Big, black words at the top print **Wanted**,__with a picture of the outlaw below it. Underneath the outlaw's picture flashes the bolded words, **Jace Lightwood: Dead or Alive.** It isn't the words that scare her.

It is the picture.

No, the outlaw isn't the black-toothed, evil-eyed, bushy-haired monster she thought it'd be. In fact, he's far from it.

Same blond hair, same gold eyes. Same fierce, challenging smile that makes her heart skip a beat.

No doubt about it, Clary is harboring the most wanted criminal in the West.

_Sebastian my ass_.

…

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Clary shouts, banging the door closed. Sebastian – Jace – pokes his head out of her room, where he has been hiding the whole day, wearing an unreadable expression.

"The hottest, wildest, cockiest cowboy to ever set foot in the West?"

"You are the most sought after bastard, _Jace Lightwood_! Get out of my house!"

She plants her hands on his chest to push, but he traps her right hand and presses it against his beating heart. Instantly her mind is muddled.

_Screw you_, she thinks, but the thought barely registers.

"You know you don't want that," he murmurs with an edge of danger, sending shivers up Clary's spine. God, it is creepy how wells he knows her, and what turns her on.

_Especially badass, sexy cowboys._

His lips are nipping the skin over her collarbone, his arms somehow already surrounding her small waist, pulling her flush with him. His checkered blue bandana, tied in a triangle, tickles her cheek. She's breathing hard already, trembling with the effort of clinging to sanity. "Are you sure this is okay?" He whispers, licking her ear and then blowing cool air on it. "Your little boyfriend won't mind?"

Clary's hands are knotted tightly in his shirt. She arches her neck, inviting him to explore everywhere. "Will's not my boyfriend," she bites her lip to keep from moaning as he pushes down the collar of her dress to bare her shoulder and plant butterfly kisses there. The last of her sanity is blown to smithereens. "He loves a girl back in London…called Tess or somethin'. Have – _Oh my God – _you – _Jace – _been stalking – _do that again._"

Jace chuckles as she finally breaks down and sucks on his neck. She feels his Adam's apple vibrating and teases it between her teeth, causing him to give a strangled yelp.

Instead of answering, he takes Clary's hands and places them at the belt of his Levi jeans. Within seconds, his plaid red shirt is untucked. His skin feels so hot, so tight over his rock-hard muscles, so good.

A loud rap jerks them apart. Jace pulls away, flushed, eyes still unfocused. His lips are swollen red and there are two pink splotches on his cheeks. Still, he grabs hold of his composure and ducks into Clary's room immediately, snatching the discarded bandana Clary had ripped off earlier.

Smoothening her hair, Clary opens the door to find the ringleader of the cowboys, Jake, with his six cowboys behind him. He has three pistols tucked in his belt – all Colt 45's, the best precision guns in Texas that can shoot six bullets without reloading.

"Ma'am," he tips his hat to Clary, even though he is at least ten years older.

"Good evening Mr. Kelmer. How may I help you?" She tries to ignore the twisted gut feeling.

"We've heard from a resident who sighted a man slinking around your house. We're concerned for your safety, ma'am, and we'd like to search it for your protection."

"Oh!" Clary says, fighting to keep her smile plastered on her face. "That is much appreciated, although unneeded." She steps forward, blocking Jake who had taken a step in. "I'm rather tired, you see, and I was just onto bed." She points at her ruffled hair and slightly unbuttoned dress, satisfied to see the men look abashed. "If y'all don't mind coming back tomorrow, though…"

"Sure thing," Jake says hastily, tipping his hat once more. He readjusts his collared shirt as he strides off, calling, "'Night Miss Fray."

As soon as the door is closed and locked, Clary rushes into her room, just in time to see Jace climbing out of the window. She madly dashes over and grabs hold of his belt, dragging his back inside.

"Are you crazy?"

"Let me go, Clary. You'll go to the gallows if you get caught helping me."

"Newflash: no." Clary places her hand on her hips. "In case if you hadn't known, they've surrounded this town front to back with cowboys, day and night. There's no way you can sneak past them."

Jace's eyebrows shoot up. "Then I'll just have to risk it, won't I?" He starts for the window again. "Unless you want to join me? Living the life of a rouge isn't easy, though." He looks confused at why he offered, and shrugs, convinced she won't go.

Clary watches him make his way to the window. She thinks of her deceased parents, her brother's death, and Will. She thinks of the life in the dusty little town, boring and dull. Lastly, she thinks of the man she has just met, who she doesn't know yet but feels safe and satisfied with. There's nothing to lose…except Will. _But quid pro quo, baby, _she thinks.

"I'm game."

Jace turns slowly around, incredulous. "Pardon?"

Clary grins, making her way to him and pulling him away from the window. "You can't get rid of me _that_ easily, you know."

…

The night is pitch black as Clary trudges through the scrubs at the skirts of town. Shadows are everywhere, long and foreboding. She thinks of Jace, out there stealing a horse while she creates a diversion. Then they are to rendezvous at this certain rock he'd told her about, three miles out. She'd have to run, but she is willing to do it if it means staying with Jace.

The cowboys' forms are silhouetted against the bright shine of the moon. All around the town, they form a circle, each sitting up straight, alert and vigilant. Their horses stamp around restless.

Clary feels a sudden rush of pride for Will. He's one of them.

They are such a pretty sight Clary is almost sorry to break it apart.

"Help!" She shrieks at the top of her voice, ejecting as much fear into it as possible.

Just as she planned, the cowboys immediately gallop over. "What happened ma'am?"

Clary pulls the hood low over her face as she pretends to sob. She can't let them see her face. "He took it," she sniffs plaintitively before quaking her shoulders in false sobs again. "He took the only memory of my mother. My silver necklace!"

The cowboys share startled glances. "Who, miss?" one asks eagerly.

"Him," Clary whispers. "The outlaw."

"Where'd he go?"

"There," Clary points a shaky finger in the opposite direction, farther into the depths of the town. "Hurry! He's on a horse."

The men are gone in a flash.

_Haha,_ Clary laughs, slipping off. She's running, running across the empty terrain, away from civilization, to the untamed West. She can only put all her faith in Jace, hoping that he'd actually be there. Waiting for her.

…

The sun is just peeking out over the horizon as Clary staggers up to the huge rock Jace had told her about. It's the only boulder that's in sight, impossible to miss.

_Jace,_ she almost cries in relief, scanning the horizon.

She blinks a couple of times, and then rubs her eyes, unable to process what she sees in front of her.

No Jace.

None. Nada. Zip. Zero.

**It doesn't end there. The next chapter's a continuation. It's just that it was too long, so I had to cut it in half. Also, I got a review from anonymous saying that they thought I was going to end this soon. It's going to be at least 10 chapters, I think, so don't worry. And I can tell you it'll be a happy ending for the last chap.**

**So you know how JacexClary is Clace and AlecxMagnus is Malec? What's IsabellexSimon? Isamon? Simabelle? O_O**

**Review…**


	7. Chapter 7: Wanted Dead or Alive

**I know its summer. And that should mean more updates. **

**But the thing is, my parents think I spend too much time on fanfiction. So now they've limited the time I can spend on it. -_-**

**I'll try to update as fast as I can, but it'll probably once a week.**

**Also, this chapter is mostly in Jace's POV(: A bit descriptive toward the end. Just warning. And if you don't understand what happened in the end, read my notes at the very end.**

Chapter Seven: Wanted Dead or Alive (Cont.)

It's been two days. Two days since she last arrived at the boulder. Clary sits underneath a deep cave in the rock, dying of thirst and hunger. (**A/N: The boulder is really really really big, and theres this huge hollowed out interior inside.**)

Still no sign of Jace.

_Stay or go?_

_ Go_.

She gets to her feet painfully, wincing at the blisters on her feet she got from running across the desert – to meet Jace.

_Nice one, Jace_. She thinks bitterly, wetting her dry and parched lips. Her throat burns as she swallows. _You had me wrapped around your little finger. You used me, like a toy. _

_Jesus, I'm so stupid._

Clary can just imagine him, riding off on the horse she helped him steal, laughing as he galloped away.

Once more, someone has let her down. First her parents, then her brother, her friends and now, Jace.

Her lips twist at the irony of it all. Her eyes are so dry no tears leak out.

_I thought you were different, but in truth, you're no better than the rest._

By dusk she's dragging herself along, head drooping, barely conscious.

It takes minutes for the galloping thump thump to register, and by that time, the rider has already caught up to her.

"Clary." Strong arms haul her up onto the horse that's pure black. "God, Clary, I'm so sorry."

She faints.

…

Her body's curled feebly into a ball on the ground in the huge hollow of the boulder. Every few minutes, Jace tips her head back and pours water down her throat. She doesn't respond.

_Clary, please wake up. Please, I'm begging you._

Never in his life has Jace been this scared before.

_It's all my fault. _

He can't lose her. Right now, she's the only thing he has in the world. The only thing that brings joy into his life.

_Wake up, Clary._

Jace lies down next to Clary, and wraps his arms around her thin waist. He knows he's threading on dangerous grounds. The longer they stay here, close to town, the more likely he'll be caught, and she'll be hung for the gallows. But now to him, the most important thing is her health. He'll stay by her side for as long as she needs him to. Even if it means death.

He doesn't realize he's dozed off until a hoarse whisper breaks into his slumber.

"Jace? Is that really you?"

Jace springs up. "Clary. Clary, are you okay?"

She sits up, throwing herself into his arms, sobbing suddenly. "I thought you were a dream," she hiccups between her sobs. "I thought you were gone. I thought you left me."

Jace hugs her tighter. "Never, baby. I'd never leave you. The only reason I stayed in your town was because of you."

Clary quiets down. "Because of me?"

Jace grins down at her. "Yeah. In every town, I take something – money, clothes, horses, guns, you name it. But in your town, I took you."

"Why me?"

"Because I want you."

With that sentence, the charge in the air suddenly changes. Both of them feel it, like a zap of electricity between them. Jace leans down and licks away Clary's tears still dotting her cheeks.

Clary shifts quickly and captures his mouth, kissing him fervently. Jace groans – he can't help it, he's missed her so much, and she feels so good – and pushes her gently until she's lying on the ground, him on top of her. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Well," Clary pants as they break apart for air. "I want you too."

Jace grins his cocky grin, knowing that she melts at the sight of it. His hands slip under her shirt as they kiss, hot and long, and he can't contain a little shiver at her delicious moan.

Clary's nimble fingers unbutton his shirt in a second, and she rips it away as if it was burning her. Eyes closed, groans escape Jace's lips. Her shirts off too, and their hot skins slide against each other. Her fingers stop at his buckle.

"You sure?" Jace presses soft kisses onto Clary's neck.

Clary nods resolutely. Her eyes are excited and feverishly bright as she pulls him on top of her.

…

Jace wakes up feeling the best he's ever felt in his life. Clary is nestled in his arms, still sleeping contently. She nuzzles her face deeper into his bare chest, sighing contently. Jace grins as he recounts the memories of last night.

God, she was _good_.

Reluctantly, he untangles himself and walks to the "door" of their hideout.

Something black collides head-on with his hard chest. Something long, shiny, and thin.

The barrel of a Colt 45.

"Don't move."

Slowly, Jace raises his eyes to meet the owner of the gun. A pair of icy blue eyes burns back at him. Black mop of hair on his head, this cowboy is familiar. Jace racks his brain.

_Ah, Clary's friend. Perfect._

"Clary?" Jace says, keeping his voice carefully neutral. Even rouges like him weren't used to having a pistol right next to their hearts. Silently, he cursed himself for throwing his guns across the cave last night.

Well, no one could blame him when he was in ecstasy, could they?

"Clary?" Jace calls again, louder. "We've got company."

The effect Clary's name has on the guy is tremendous. He stiffens all over and pushes the gun harder, making a dent in Jace's muscled chest.

"_You_ have Clary?" He demands. "What did you do to her?"

"Stuff," Jace winks, enraging the cowboy, who turned red. "And she _loved _it."

"Don't mess with me, bastard."

"Jace?" Clary's at the "door", blinking groggily in the sunlight.

Thank God she put on some clothes, Jace thinks.

"Jace? What's wron – Oh, my God!" She runs over, throwing her arms around….

The stranger. The man staggers backward, the Colt leaving Jace's chest. Jace would have breathed out a sigh of relief, if only Clary wasn't hugging the other guy so tightly. Blood pounds in Jace's ears as Clary plants a kiss onto the blue-eyed jerk's cheek.

"What the fuck?" Jace growls.

"Looks like she enjoys _me_ more than the stuff _you_ did," the guy sneers.

Jace lunges at him, only to be stopped by Clary.

"Stop it! What's gotten into you, Jace?"

"What's gotten into _me_?" Jace laughs, coldly. "Well, sweetheart, if you'd told me you already _had_ a man in your bed, I wouldn't be like this. I don't like threesomes."

Clary's face crumples in hurt, and it sends a stab of guilt into Jace's heart.

"You still don't believe me? I put all my trust into you, after all we've been through, and you can't even give me a drop of your trust?"

Jace's mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

Because Jace Lightwood is never jealous. Never.

"He's my _best friend_, Jace. Try to understand that best friend does not mean _fuck buddy_." Clary turns back to the guy. "Whatcha doing here, Will?"

The man – Will – stares from Clary to Jace. "So, you've been with _him_ this whole time?"

"Yeah."

Unexpectedly, Will smiles. Somewhere deep down inside, Jace unwillingly admits that this Will is quite good-looking. Although half as good as he is.

Will pulls Clary into another hug and Jace has to force himself not to deliver a black eye.

"I'm just glad you're okay." Will's face contorts into worry. "But you should go. Like right now. I'm here because Jake sent me on a scouting lookout in this area. They're searching this place."

Clary gasps. "Oh, Will! You won't give us away, will you?"

"Naw," Will turns to Jace. "But I'm only doin' this for her. If you do anything bad, I'll know. And that'll be the end of you, Lightwood."

Jace twines a protective arm around Clary's waist. "I won't."

_Like I'd even want to_.

Will nods. He watches them gather their few belongings and jump onto their horse.

"Will," Clary says suddenly. "Go back to London."

"London?"

"Your girl. She's there, isn't she?"

"Tessa's too good for me." Will looks down at his boots. "She's got Jem. She's better off without me."

"She can't be." Will's head snaps up in surprise. It takes Jace a moment to realize that that had been his own voice. Clary smiles.

Jace clears his throat, slightly embarrassed. After all, Jace Lightwood doesn't show compassion. "I mean, look, man. You're so kind to Clary. How could anyone be too good for you?"

Will swallow hard. "Stay safe, Clary. I hope you guys will be happy."

"I love you, Will." A tear escapes Clary's eyes. Seeing her cry gives Jace a foreign emotion. He feels sad.

"I love you too, Clary," Will says softly, without any hint of arrogance.

_God,_ Jace thinks. _Get this over with. I'm about to puke. And no one says that to my girl except for me._

"Remember what I said." Clary gives Will one last smile.

Maybe Clary can't tell, but Jace can see how hard Will works to conjure a smile for Clary. "I'll keep it in mind."

Before Clary can say more, Jace digs his heels into the horse's sides, and they gallop away, leaving Will in the dust.

…

"We wasted a lot of time back there," Jace says pointedly when they settled down at night to rest.

Clary jabs his side. "Is little Jace _jealous_?" She breaks out laughing.

Jace nuzzles his head in the crook of Clary's neck. "Maybe a little. Here I was, with a gun pointed at my chest, and you run to hug the villain."

Clary smiles, reaching up to brush a kiss across Jace's lips. "And here I thought _you _were the villain."

"I am," Jace murmurs against her mouth. "But you know you love me that way."

_A few days later…_

"Jace?" Clary's frantic voice jerks into Jace's dream.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I think they've found us."

_No way._

In a second Jace is on his feet. "What? Impossible! We're almost at the mountains!"

But true to her word, Jace sees rising dust and horses rapidly approaching. He groans. "We were so close."

"We can still run," Clary suggests.

_She's so brave,_ Jace thinks, pushing back a strand of her long, red locks. _She's not suited for this life. She's not suited for me. _

_ What have I done to her?_

"I wish, baby, but our horse is plum tuckered out. It can't last a second against them."

Clary's eyes show fear and panic. "Then what?"

It's hard for Jace to tell her. To tell her that she's about to die. "We'll make our stand here."

Jace's heart almost breaks as the fear in her green eyes is replaced by determination. She nods, and reaches for one of the many guns strapped in his belt. He leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Stand behind me, Clary."

She moves behind him. "Just remember, Jace, that I don't regret living this life with you. In fact, if I could, I'd relive it over and over, just so I could meet you."

The hard rock in Jace's throat won't go away. He swallows many times, but the burning sensation is still there. "Clary," he manages shakily. She wraps her small arms around his waist.

_What have I led you to, Clary? You're shouldn't love me. You shouldn't even want to love me. Say that you hate me, Clary. Please._

"I love you Jace."

He takes a shuddering breath. _Don't cry. Don't cry. A man never cries._

"Very touching," a snarky voice laughs. Jace looks up, and sees Jake Kelmer a hundred feet away. In his hand is a gun. Directed at him.

Of course.

"So you've finally found me, Kelmer," Jace says as a line of cowboys surround Jake. "Took you long enough."

"Asshole. You're going down this time."

All the cowboys raise their pistols.

_Shit._

"Listen here," Jace speaks fast. "I've got a girl with me. I'll give myself up if you promise you won't hurt her."

Clary jabs Jace's ribs.

Jake grins. "Clary, isn't it? I've had my eye on you for decades. Had her over, Lightwood. She'll be my bride."

_Pedophile,_ Jace wants to punch the living daylights out of him.

"Did Will give us away?" Clary asks.

"Will?" Jake scoffs. "No. That bastard left for London a few days ago."

Clary smiles.

_She's too good for this life! _Jace wants to scream. He wants to kill God or whoever was up there for bringing Clary into this.

"Come here, Clary," Jake smiles. "We'll be happy forever and after."

Clary cocks the pistol and pulls the trigger.

_Fuck, Clary! NOOO, I almost had you safe!_

The bullet hits Jake in the shoulder, making him fall off his horse. A couple of cowboys jump to his aid while the others immediately fire.

In a blink of an eye, Jace is wheeling two Colts, shooting away into the dust that has billowed up. He knows he's hit the majority of the cowboys, and he hears the rest of them galloping away.

_Wow,_ he thinks. _We made it._

"Clary," he whirls around, ready to hug her.

Only she's on the ground, in a pool of blood.

_No. No. . No fucking way._

Jace falls to his knees. He gathers Clary in his arms. "Stay with me, baby. Stay with me," he murmurs.

Painfully, Clary lifts a hand until it's lying on her abdomen. Her breath is a deep rattle and he has to lean down to hear her whisper.

"I wanted to name him Jonathan."

She's silent.

"Clary?" Jace can't believe it. She can't be gone. She wouldn't leave him like this. He crushes his lips to her cold ones. "I love you, Clary. I love you," he murmurs again and again. "I love you."

He's crying now. Tears drip down onto his cheeks, and slid onto her face. Gently, he lays Clary down. "I'll come back for you, Clary." He wants to stab his gun into Jake's dead face.

Sobbing, he stumbles to his knees, broken. Clary's gone.

_Why her? Why not me? Why didn't you take me with you?_

When he gets to the display of the dead bodies of the cowboys, he crushes the skull of each one, relishing in the cracking of bones and the squirts of blood. Any one of them could have fired the bullet that killed Clary.

He laughs, now crying and laughing at the same time as he stumbles among the dead carcasses, thinking of smashing Jake's brains like slicing a watermelon. But no Jake. He must have escaped.

_You'll pay for this, Kelmer. You'll pay._

After crushes all the skulls, Jace heads back for Clary.

Her body's not there.

The blood is still painted on the ground, but it's like her body has disappeared into thin air. Reality crashes over Jace once more and he sinks to the ground, head in his hands, crying. Like a little boy.

She didn't even leave him a memento.

_I wanted to name him Jonathan._

…

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Jace grins, pulling the trigger one more time.

The second to last cowboy who escaped drops to the ground.

Dead.

He crouches down, next to the still warm body, quickly working. The sticky blood clings to his hands, but it doesn't stop him from his masterpiece.

Four days since Clary's death, Jace has ridden back to town, scouring in the dark for the five escaped cowboys. As each day passes, the town is getting spooked. Every night, one shot rings out.

Every night, one cowboy is found dead in a pool of blood, with the name _Jonathan _carved in his back.

Every night, no culprit is found. The killer escapes each time.

Tonight, the only cowboy remaining in town is Jake Kelmer.

Stepping back from the body, Jace grins as he stares down at the body. As silent as a mouse, he sneaks away, just as Jake, with the sheriff and the rest of the town at his heels, crashes into the dark house.

In the only patch of moonlight in the house lies the bloody body of a cowboy, with _Jonathan _engraved in his back.

Only this time, there's more. On the ground, the killer has used the blood to paint a gory message.

_You scared yet, Kelmer? Because I'm coming after you._

…

Now Jake is scared. He sits in his locked bedroom, a gun by his bed, a pistol in his belt. He has asked the sheriff to stand guard outside his bedroom at all times.

_I should have left him alone,_ he thinks.

Jake lies down on his bed, but he can't sleep. Images of the dead cowboy flash in his brain.

A black shape suddenly looms in front of him. The gleam of a blade temporarily blinds him. Gold eyes grin maniacally at him, like a cat.

"How…?" Jake croaks. He doesn't even fight.

"Under your bed, stupid." Jace licks his lips. "This'll be fun."

The knife comes down. And there's no gun to end the pain in one click. Jace starts at the knee, slowly cutting it off, carving intricate patterns in the flesh. He goes to the leg, chopping it like vegetables on a board.

Why doesn't Jake scream? Because Jace has cleverly cut his throat out.

Blood pours out. Soon the bed becomes red. The blood drips onto the floor and drops down through the boards, onto the kitchen table below.

Someone screams.

"I'm ready for you, Clary," Jace whispers.

The sheriff busts open the door, pistol in hand. In the low light, he sees Jace sitting in a pool of black blood, grinning from ear to ear, eyes feverishly bright. He spreads his arms out.

"Hit me, boy."

Without hesitation, the sheriff pulls the trigger. As the town residents run up the steps, crowding to see the death of the outcast, the sheriff lights a lantern.

But all they see is Jake's gory, cut up body. A leg here, an arm there. He's still alive, and the sheriff shots him out of pity. To end his pain.

Jace Lightwood is gone. There's new blood. Jace's blood, but his body is nowhere, and the sheriff is positive he didn't miss.

"Look!" Someone suddenly gasps. Out the window is a familiar rogue with golden hair. His form flickers, like a ghost, and the town watches as he opens his arms to welcome a certain redhead, who's also partly transparent.

The town watches in silence as the couple laugh and hug. They kiss, and then, hand in hand, climb onto a shimmering horse, and ride off into the distance.

To this day, nothing bad has ever happened to the town again.

They say that if you travel to the West, sit on a particular huge boulder, and stare into the sunset for a long time, they say that you can still see them, riding off into the sunset.

Together.

_I'm a cowboy  
>On a steel horse I ride<br>I'm wanted  
>Dead or alive<br>Wanted  
>Dead or alive<em>

_Sometimes I sleep  
>Sometimes it's not for days<br>The people I meet  
>Always go their separate ways<em>

_Sometimes you tell the day  
>By the bottle that you drink<br>And times when you're alone  
>All you do is think<em>

_I'm a cowboy  
>On a steel horse I ride<br>I'm wanted  
>Dead or alive<br>Wanted  
>Dead or alive<em>

_When I walk these streets  
>A loaded six string on my back<br>I play for keeps  
>'Cause I might not make it back<em>

_I've been everywhere  
>Still I'm standin' tall<br>I've seen a million faces  
>And I've rocked them all<em>

_'Cause I'm a cowboy  
>On a steel horse I ride<br>I'm wanted  
>Dead or alive<em>

_I'm a cowboy  
>I got the night on my side<br>And I'm wanted  
>Dead or alive<br>And I'm right  
>Dead or alive<br>_

**See? It's a tragic happy ending! Sorry for the bloody scenes, especially with Jake.**

**If you didn't get what happened with Jace and Clary: so basically, Jace and Clary's bodies "transcended" (is that the right word?) space and time, because they're meant for each other…blah blah blah, all that romantic fairy tale crap. So their bodies basically disappeared, and their souls can live forever, and can be seen, sometimes. Or so the legend says…**

**About the song, I don't really like writing song fics, where the lyrics are broken up between the writing, so I just slammed it all in at the end. xD hope you don't mine. And it's not the whole song, only parts of it. Song is **_**Wanted Dead or Alive**_** by Bon Jovi.**

**Next story: (which is probably going to be split into two/three chaps) High School! :D It's going to be the last story, and then there's an epilogue.**

**I'm going to send Jace out to murder you guys if you don't review. XD Cause I worked my butt off for this chapter…it's almost ten pages in word doc. **


	8. Chapter 8: High School Horrors

**Eh heh heh…right. My rating was a K+. And the last chap had a lot of swear words…not exactly suited for little children….oops. D: So thanks for reminding me to change the rating…I forget these types of things.**

Chapter Seven: High School Horrors

Clary walks down the halls of Idris High School, taking in the posters hanging on the wall, the open lockers piled with clutter, and the students laughing and talking as they pass each other on their way to class. _Some couples_, Clary grimaces as she passes two people passionately shoving their tongues down each other's throats, _seriously need to learn some PDA rules._

_New school. New life. New _me_._

_Yeah, right. _ Clary scoffs at herself, laughing as she pictures herself swaggering down the hallway with everyone backing out of her way as she laughs with her friends. _It's been almost half a year since the beginning of school and I'm still little Clary Fray, artist, unknown to the rest of the Senior class_._ And I'm content with it._

"Oh, my God," a nasally voice breaks into the clamor of voices. Clary immediately recognizes it as Kaelie's voice. Kaelie: blonde, curvy, top bitch of the Senior class. Also, Jace Wayland's current girlfriend. Based on Jace's past dealings, though, she'd probably be dumped in a few days, after a couple of good romps.

"Do you even _see_ what that girl did to me?" Kaelie's voice drifts closer and closer. "It was so ridiculous! She's so ugly I wanted to puke all over her face – oh wait, her face already looks like puke."

Giggles.

Clary tries to push faster through the crowd. She definitely doesn't want to deal with Kaelie at that instant, especially when two periods earlier she had purposely drawn all over Kaelie's clothes while Kaelie was strutting up and down the locker room in her panties, pretending her golden boyfriend was there to feel her up.

Disgusting.

_Jace Wayland._ Clary smirks, picturing the "king" of Idris. Golden eyes, blonde hair that shone like gold, Homecoming King every year, captain of the football team, soccer team, and the anchor of the track team, prankster, completely badass (although a sucker to the teachers, who flirt with him _all_ the time). His record with a girl? An hour. And it was all on the same day he asked her out, brought her home, and had sex.

The girl was never the same again.

_I know all of this, but not because I'm secretly stalking him. I mean, everyone knows it right?_ Clary reassures herself.

Unfortunately, he was also her Biology partner.

Lost in thought, she's suddenly flying backward, slamming so hard against the wall she sees stars.

"Ow," she mutters, rubbing her head. She looks up to see who has hit her.

Speak of the devil himself.

Jace is leaning over her, with a hand outstretched. He looks concerned, actually concerned, for the first time in his life.

_Not that I look at him all the time. _Clary blushes.

"Hey," he says. "You alright?"

"After you send me smacking into a damn hard concrete wall, you ask me if I'm okay?" Clary glares up at him, but he remains undeterred, reaching down and pulling her to her feet. "Wow. Congratulations, you must be more of an asshat than I thought."

Jace grins down at her. "An asshat?"

"Oh, darling!" Kaelie runs down the hallway, nearly tripping over her six-inch stilettos. "Did this bitch hurt you too much?" She busies herself by patting his chest. She was only giving herself an extra reason to feel him.

"You alright, Jacey-kins?" She murmurs seductively, ruffling his hair.

_Such silky, fine hair_, Clary thinks, suddenly wanting to be the one threading a hand through his hair.

_Oh, God. No! What am I thinking?_

Kaelie jerks toward Clary, pinning her to the wall. "I'll kill you, bitch."

"Nice clothes, Kaelie," Clary smirks, looking at Kaelie's new clothes that she had changed into.

"Kaelie," Jace says. "Calm down. She's the one to worry about, not me."

Immediately, Kaelie drops Clary, who scowls darkly, rubbing the marks Kaelie's claws made.

"As long as you're alright," the queen bitch smiles grotesquely, linking an arm through his. Clary sees a flicker of annoyance pass through Jace's fine features. "Let's go to class, then."

"You know, I think I'll take Clary to the nurse's office. Just to make sure she doesn't have a concussion."

"No, thanks." Clary says, backing away.

"Baby, no." Kaelie immediately engulfs Jace's mouth, sucking and probing.

_Ewwww._

Jace jerks away. "Kaelie, I think she needs a checkup. She called me an asshat, and you know no one calls me an asshat."

"Fine." Kaelie flips Clary the birdie, then flounces off to class.

"I don't need your help," Clary says through gritted teeth. "I can handle myself."

"Didn't seem like it," Jace says, dragging her in the opposite direction of the nurse's office.

"Where are we going?"

They end up at his turquoise BMW. Jace grins.

"_Hell no,_" Clary jerks her arm out of his grasp, glaring.

Jace sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to take you for a ride."

"What type of ride?"

"Not _that_ type of ride. Just a cruise, maybe get some ice cream." Jace looks slightly hurt. "I'm not all that bad all the time, you know."

"That's not what I've heard. And I could hardly call your pinches in Biology nice." But Clary gets in the car anyway.

Jace looks triumphant. He slides into the driver's seat, and they careen out of the parking lot. But instead of going to the ice cream parlor, Jace turns toward a route that looks suspiciously like the route to his house.

"Jace."

"Clary."

"Jace. I'm serious."

"About what?" They stop in front of his mansion – his and the Lightwood's mansion. He gets out of the car, and opens the door for Clary. Like a gentleman.

"I don't want to have sex with you!"

This time, Jace lets the hurt show, and Clary hates that she feels guilty. "You really think that I want to hurt you like that? That I'd just – just _force_ you to have sex with me?"

"Well…yes?"

Jace scowls, slamming the door shut. He storms to the driver's seat, and starts the car, driving way, way too fast.

"Jace?" Clary says, her voice small. "Can you slow down? You're scaring me."

"Didn't I already scare you?" Jace sneers, not slowing down at all. Clary screams as the car tilts while turning.

Police sirens sound. Swearing profusely, Jace pulls over. He glares at Clary, who shrinks back.

"Can I have you come out of the car and walk in a straight line?" The police officer asks Jace.

"I'm not drunk," Jace snarls.

"You were going 80 mph on a 25 mph street. I think something's wrong."

"Fuck off," Jace snaps. "I said I'm _not_ drunk."

The man turns to Clary. "Miss, tell your boyfriend to walk the line."

Clary flushes a deep red. "He's not my boyfriend!"

Jace's eyes flash as he turns to stare at her, a million emotions swirling in those golden orbs.

_Why is he looking at me like that?_

Jace gets out of the car, walks the line perfectly, and then spits at the police officer. Clary winces at his rudeness.

"That's a huge fine you'll have to pay, young man. You'll need to –"

"Just get it over with, old man."

The police officer glares, and then quickly scribbles something on a piece of paper. Jace speeds away, going once more to 80 mph.

The car screeches to a stop in the school parking lot.

Clary jumps out of the car.

"Why'd you say that?"

She stops, hand on the door. "Say what?"

He fiddles with his fingers, not looking at her. The muscles in his biceps flex. "That you're not my boyfriend."

"Because you're not."

Jace's shoulders slouch a little, for some unknown reason. "Right."

"What did you want to do, Jace?"

"What?" Jace looks up at her, surprised. His eyes are glowing. "Oh," he says, understanding. "I wanted you to draw me something." His features soften and he gets a far away look in his eyes. "Someone special."

_Oh._

"But that's not happening, is it." Jace's eyes harden, and his face twists into disgust as he slams his car door shut and walks away. "Because I _scare_ you. You hate me."

…

"Are you alright, Clary?" Simon, her best friend, asks. "You've been weird ever since yesterday."

The image of Jace, slumped in his car, haunts her mind. Yesterday, she even found herself drawing a picture of him. He was fiddling his fingers in his car, turned slightly away, looking moody and depressed. Clary had kept the picture.

"I'm fine." Unwillingly, Clary's eyes drifts toward where Jace sits with the popular kids in the cafeteria. Alec, his step-brother, Jonathan, Jordan, and Sebastian flank him on either side, with Aline, Isabelle, Maia, curled around each of them. Except Alec that is, who is talking to Magnus. Jace and Kaelie are twined around each other in an intense make out session, oblivious to the world around them.

Jealously burns in Clary's stomach.

As if sensing her stare, Jace breaks off the kiss, glances over to Clary. Their eyes lock and he smiles, hard and cold. Clary rips her eyes off of him and turns to Simon, who's talking about _Dungeons and Dragons_. He suddenly cuts himself off.

"Uh, Clary? Kaelie's coming over."

_Crap. She must've found out about yesterday._

"Hey, Ugly," a nasally voice sneers.

"Hey, Freakshow," Clary replies, not turning around.

Undeterred, Kaelie slides into the chair next to her. "I heard you went on a little joyride with my boyfriend. You better stay away from him, whore. He's mine."

Clary choked. "Joyride? You wish."

"Oh, no. I don't wish. He's already given me _tons_ of joyrides." Kaelie smiles grotesquely. "Of course, I imagine he must have been quite disappointed with your performance yesterday."

This sets Clary off. She throws her head back, laughing. "You think that I had _sex_ with Jace yesterday? You think that I seduced Jace yesterday? You think that I'd even _want_ to lose my virginity to Jace Wayland?" Clary can't stop laughing.

"Let me tell you something, bitch. I'd rather die as a virgin than lose my virginity to someone like Jace Wayland. He's the player of this school, the "king" of Idris, who thinks he's untouchable, who thinks he's a god, who thinks he's _so_ cool, _so_ good, _so_ amazing. Do you think that I'd want to contract one of the many STD's he carries? Do you know how many girls in this school have had their lives _ruined_ by him?"

"They could have been stars. They could have been multibillionaire CEO's. They had their whole lives in front of them. And now look at them. They're soulless, fragile, lost. You actually think that I'd want to become someone like them?"

For once, Kaelie's lost for words. Clary doesn't realize that the whole cafeteria has become silent, listening to her words.

"I don't know why you think I'd ever want Jace, because you're perfect for him. You're both so fake, so full of yourselves, so vile, and you've both got no morals. You guys take pleasure in ruining people's lives and making them miserable. And to think that you'd suggest I had sex with Jace? That's just disgusting."

Clary stands up, watching Kaelie trembling with rage. She locks eyes with Jace. His hand is cupped around the back of his neck, and he's frozen. His eyes show shock, horror, anger, and hurt, the edges of his jaw rigid. They stare at each other for a tense minute, until Clary turns away and walks out of the cafeteria, leaving the rest of the students in silent astonishment.

Outside, Clary climbs up a tree and sits high up in the branches, her head in her knees. The bell rings for class, but she doesn't go in.

The next class she has is Biology. With Jace. Her biology partner.

_I've just dissed Kaelie and Jace, better than anyone has ever done. Killed two birds with one stone. It's not that no one knew the truth about them; everyone did. I only said it out loud. _

In her mind's eye, she sees Jace's golden eyes, swirling with such intense emotions, so unlike the easy, laid back guy everyone knew.

_So why do I feel so bad?_

**I know these are dragging out to be multichapters long, whereas the first few were like oneshots. Some of you noticed that the stories get better and better, deeper and deeper. I tried making it that way, because in the beginning of time, I wanted it to be sort of hazy, and as time progresses, you see their characters beginning to build up, more of their feelings, their stories, and more action. I kinda wanted it to progress this way.**

**So that's why they're getting longer. I'm sorry if you guys like the one-shot format better. **

**A teaser for next chap:**

"You've never truly known Jace, and you can't even give him a chance?" Isabelle looks disgusted. "I thought you were better than that, Clary. But in reality, you're no better than all that shit you said about Kaelie, are you?"

**I've given you a treat…so can you give **_**me**_** a treat by reviewing? :D**


	9. Chapter 9: High School Horrors

**More than 100 reviews? You guys are frickin awesome!33**

Chapter Nine: High School Horrors (Cont.)

Empty chair. Again. The whole week has gone by, and Jace's chair is still empty.

_Which is fine by me,_ Clary thinks, _I get extra space._

Despite her reassurance, her gut still twists in guilt. After all, if Jace had said all those words she'd said, Clary isn't sure if _she'd_ actually want to see Jace's face ever again, much less sit next to him in Biology. He has a reason to skip school, something he's never done before.

Everyday for the whole year, his seat has been filled. Until now.

_Not my fault…right?_

Yeah, well, to the rest of the school, it was. In just a few days, she has risen from oblivion to the most known girl around school. She is the one who caused the disappearance of Jace Wayland, the most pined for man in Idris. Everyone now gives her dirty looks, shoves, and kicks.

The bruises under her clothing can prove it. Especially the deep crescent marks made by the Queen Bitch herself. Nails hurt.

Biology passes by slowly. For the millionth time, she finds herself missing the teasing spitballs from Jace, his sly notes and texts, his teasing.

_But why should I miss it if all of that stops as soon as Biology ends, and he treats me like a stranger afterwards? _

Clary does miss him, even though she'd rather die before she'd admit it. She misses his presence, his golden hair, his infuriating smirk. She misses the way he smells like summer.

_I'm sorry, Jace. Come back. Please come back._

…

"She's doing the same thing again."

Clary sips on her carton of apple juice. "Who? No, wait. Lemme guess…Her Royal Bitchiness?"

"Yeah," Simon says, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "It's like Kaelie has this weird crush on you. She couldn't stop staring at you for the last week or so."

"Oh, please." Clary rolls her eyes. "You know it's because she hates me for dissing her."

"And making her boyfriend disappear off the face of this planet."

"I feel really bad, Simon," Clary confesses.

Simon's eyebrows rocket sky high. "Do you _like_ him?"

"No!" Clary's juice squirts out of her nose. "Ew, gross, Simon!" She wipes up the mess with a napkin. "But I do feel bad. I mean, Jace isn't the type of guy to cut class just because some loner girl dissed him. His reputation is so much greater than mine it wouldn't even matter what I said. Everyone would still treat him the same way."

"That's true," a voice says behind them. "Only the girl who said it was you."

Clary whirls around, seeing Isabelle Lightwood standing with her tray behind her. Isabelle Lightwood, the gorgeous step-sister of Jace Wayland, tall, with ebony black hair and long legs, topped with beauty that can kill. The woman in every man's wet dream.

_Oh, Mother of Jesus. She's going to give me a piece of her mind as well._

Behind her, Simon is clearing his voice like mad, as if he has a cough and couldn't get rid of it. Isabelle flicks her eyes toward him, and smirks, "Simon, I can see your undigested food in that unattractive mouth."

Simon's jaw, which has been lying on the floor, snaps closed. His whole face is red, even the tips of his ears.

Clary looks at Kaelie, who mouths, _you're going down, bitch._ "Are you here because of Kaelie?" Clary asks Isabelle.

Surprising everyone, Isabelle sits down next to Clary. "No," she said. "I'm here because of Jace."

_Ah. I'm screwed._

Isabelle suddenly scowls, standing up again, noticing that the whole school is silent, all eyes zeroed in on them. _Isabelle Lightwood Confronting Clary Fray about Brother Jace Wayland_ could have been the headlines of _Mercury News._ "Will you guys get a life?" Her voice rings out across the silence. "Jesus Christ. We're not some TV soap."

Immediately, most eyes, except for a few daring rebels, drops down and low murmurs eventually rise. With a fierce glare, Isabelle intimidates the few remaining stares.

"Uh, Isabelle?" Simon asks timidly. "I think they do think this whole mess is a drama."

Isabelle sighs, picking at her manicured fingernails. "I know. It's pissing the hell out of me."

A long silence. Then: "You hurt him really bad."

Clary lifts up her juice, drinking so she wouldn't have to reply.

"Why would you even say those things, Clary? It's not like you."

"You don't even know me, Isabelle. This is the first time we've talked."

Isabelle's eyes narrow. "Fine. Be a bitch and see if I care."

"It's just – I don't get it. It wasn't like what they did was such a big secret. And no one even knows me anyway. It's not like Aline said it, or Maia, or Imogen, or any of the popular, influential people."

"That's the _point_." Isabelle rubs her temples. "How can a smart girl like you be so stupid? Jace wouldn't have cared if anyone else said it. But it's because _you_ said it that hurt him."

"Me?" Clary's very confused. She looks at Simon, who's wearing an inscrutable expression. "Why me? I don't mean anything to him."

"This girl's stupid," Simon says to Isabelle, cocking his thumb at Clary.

"Hey!"

"She is," Isabelle agrees.

"I'm his Biology partner," Clary says, flipping up her palms. "That's all. If you think there's anything more, you've got the wrong girl here."

"You put yourself way down the notch, girl." Isabelle has on her classic _you've got to be kidding _look.

"Look Isabelle. This isn't a nice joke you're playing. I may have hurt Jace, but this isn't the way to get back at me. I'm not stupid, and it's not funny anymore. So cut out this Jace loves me crap." Clary turns to Simon. "And Simon? I never thought _you'd _do this to me. I thought we were best friends, but best friends don't backstab each other once they get awestruck by some hot bitch."

"Clary, I'm not –"

"She's just too afraid to put herself on the line," Isabelle cuts him off.

"What?" Clary says.

"You just won't admit it's true. You're too much of a baby to give others your heart. Maybe he'll break it, but maybe he won't. If you never give people a try, you're going to be one lonely girl."

"It's not true!" Clary shouts, and the whole cafeteria drops into silence. Isabelle flips them off and they start talking again, but their ears are still turned toward the commotion. "Whatever you say, I don't like Jace!"

"Oh," Isabelle sneers, "Then I know why. It's 'cause you think you're so good you're way above Jace's level, isn't it. Then let me tell you something, if anything, it's _Jace_ who's too good for you. At least he gives everyone a try."

"He gives everyone a fucking try for sex!"

Isabelle slams her hand down on her tray, this time not caring if the school was silent. She stands up, gripping her tray with clenched hands. "You've never truly known Jace, and you can't even give him a chance?" Isabelle looks disgusted. "I thought you were better than that, Clary. But in reality, you're not any better than all that shit you said about Kaelie, are you?"

Clary opens her mouth in retort, feeling her cheeks burn at the insult. She suddenly realizes this might be how Jace and Kaelie felt when she dissed them for everyone to see.

A hand comes down on Isabelle's shaking shoulder. Alec, her brother. "C'mon, Izzy," he says, his blue eyes shooting daggers at Clary. "Let's go."

Clary stands up as her throat closes up and rushes out of the cafeteria. Simon chases after her.

"Clary," he says, wrapping his arm around Clary in the girl's bathroom.

"I never knew," Clary whispered, leaning against him. She's too stunned to cry. "I thought…I thought it was a joke."

Simon smooths her red curls. "It's not your fault, Clary."

"Don't say that. Why didn't you tell me?"

She feels Simon shrug. "I thought you knew, and by the way you acted, I thought you hated him."

_Ouch, did everyone think that she hated Jace?_

"I don't," Clary whispers. "Not really." They had had fun times, Jace and Clary, at the hazy mists of the beginning of the year, when she hadn't known anyone. Hadn't known about him and his games. They'd had lots of fun.

Simon hums.

"I really don't," Clary says, speaking more to herself. "Oh, my God. I don't hate him. In fact, I think I actually – holy shit. No. Shit, shit, shit, shit, sh –"

"It's alright to admit it," Simon chuckles. "Here, I'll help you say it. I like Jace Wayland. See? It's not that bad. Now you try."

"I like Jace Wayland," Clary whispers.

"Good. Now: I love Jace Wayland."

Clary slaps him. "Your turn. I love Isabelle Lightwood."

Simon flushes dark red. "I – I l – lo – lo – I can't do it."

"Sure you can." Clary prods him. "I think Isabelle may like you too."

"In my dreams."

"Well, she could be just like me." Clary grimaces, thinking of herself.

"Yeah," Simon says slowly. "Yeah, maybe. I mean, in class she always – we always –"

He bolts out of the bathroom.

Clary sighs, sinking down on the floor with her head between her knees. Simon's good, but she still has fences to mend.

…

She's just a girl, like any other. Fine, beautiful hair, pretty eyes, eyelashes, breasts, curvy legs, vagina.

_ So why is she so different_?

Jace lies on his bed, and looks at his watch. At this time, it'd be…Biology. He flinches.

_Clary. Why…?_

_Why would you say those things about me? _

_ It hurts, you know._

His door is locked. As it has been for the past few days. Isabelle has tried to talk him out of bed, so has Alec, even Max. But no, he won't go to school. He doesn't know if he can handle himself once he sees those sparkling green eyes or those flaming red curls.

_It's just a girl, Jace._ He chides himself.

_So many girls…_

_ Get a grip, man._

…

Clary stands outside the huge mansion, sketchbook in hand. Isabelle opens the door, her face twisting in disgust.

"You, again? What do you want this time? To hurt Jace one more time?"

Clary winces inwardly, but says again, "I want to see Jace. Just for one second."

"Sorry." Isabelle doesn't sound sorry at all. "He's asleep."

The door slams in her face.

She climbs over the tall fence, scratching her legs in the process, and peers up at Jace's room, on the third story.

_Damn it._

Luckily, there's a tree nearby, and Clary scales it easily. She climbs as far as she can on the branch outside Jace's window, and taps it.

He's in there, staring blankly at the ceiling, wearing the same clothes as the last time she had seen him. He looks like a mess.

She taps the window again.

Jace sits up, glances outside, and then jumps out of bed. He opens the window. "Holy shit, Clary. What are you _doing_?"

She takes a deep breath. _You can do this._

"I wanted to say… to say that I was sorry."

His face darkens. "Come in, for a second." He helps her through, and then closes the window. "It doesn't mean I forgive you, but when you're out there on a hella thin branch that's about to break, it scares the shit out of me."

Clary sits on the corner of his bed. "I'm really sorry, Jace. I didn't mean what I said."

"Sure you did." His voice is hollow.

"I – okay, fine. I did. But I _am_ sorry. I didn't know that it'd hurt you this much. If I did, I never would have said it."

"Okay."

"That's…it? We can be friends again?"

Jace laughs without mirth. "Friends? I'm not sure if I'll be happy with being friends."

Clary's insides take a steep dive. "Okay, then we can be more than friends."

Jace laughs again. Mockingly. "I didn't mean it _that _way. I meant that I'm not sure I want to be friends with you. I'm not sure if I'd even want to _see_ you, or talk to you again."

"Please don't say that. I like you," she whispers.

He looks at her, hard. "I don't think I believe you. You didn't have trouble saying what you said at school."

She bits her lips. "It was wrong for me to say it. I judged you without actually knowing you."

"Damn right," he growls.

"But I do like you, Jace. I really want to be friends again."

He still doesn't look like he believes her. "You said all that shit about me to Izzy."

Clary looks at the scratches on her legs, feeling her cheeks burn. "I was afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid you'd break my heart, so I wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even myself."

Jace follows her gaze to her legs, then starts. "You're hurt." He jumps up and grabs bandages and rubbing alcohol. The gesture makes Clary want to cry. He's so kind to her even after everything.

He reaches out to wipe the bleeding, but Clary draws back. "Leave it. I deserve it."

Mutely, he shakes his head, reaching out and gently rubbing the blood away, so softly it doesn't sting at all.

"You were wrong about them, Clary," Jace says suddenly.

"Wrong about…?"

"The girls." When he looks up at her, the protective shield is gone and he is vulnerable. "They didn't care about ruining their lives. They all knew what they were getting into. They all knew that I loved someone else, but they just didn't know who. This whole time, it's only _you_ who's blind to it."

Clary feels like she can't breathe. "I never knew," she whispered.

Jace puts on the last bandage. "Yeah, I figured."

"You never asked me out. You always ask out girls you like."

"I never _wanted_ to ask you out. I was afraid I'd mess it up with you. After the first few weeks of school, you learned of my reputation, and you started to distance yourself from me."

Clary thinks back to the first few days of school.

_She stands alone in the corner of the room, watching the other students chatter together before the bell rang, sending last text messages, flirting, hugging, laughing. She wishes she was back at her old school, when a blonde breaks away from a giggling group of girls and saunters toward her._

"_Hey," he says._

"_Hi." Clary thinks he's hot. Beautiful. Sexy. She's amazed that he would notice her._

"_I'm Jace." He grins, and she notices he has a chipped tooth._

_**A week later…**_

___"Stop it, Jace!" Clary giggles, trying to grab back her artwork._

_ "Tsk, tsk." He holds it just out of reach. "You should be paying more attention to the lecture." He flips the page. "What is this? A picture of me?"_

_ It's Clary's absentmindedly drawn picture of Jace, standing on top of a skyscraper, with wings jutting out of his back, like an angel._

_ "Jace!" Clary's face is red, and she's lunging for her sketchbook._

_ "Ms. Fray! Mr. Wayland," her teacher, Mrs. Crussafang barks. The other girls glare at Clary._

_ Abashed, Clary turns back to the board, studiously ignore Jace's constant smirks and snickers. _

_ He leans forward. "Don't worry, Clary. I think you're beautiful too."_

"You don't know this," Jace says, dragging her back to reality, "but I begged Mrs. Crussafang to put me next to you. I couldn't stand not talking to you."

"That doesn't make sense. You never talk to me out of class." Clary says.

"That's 'cause you'd always ignore me, so I thought you didn't want other people to know that you knew me. I thought you wanted to stay out of the gossip. You acted like you hated me, so I put myself up with all the other girls, hoping that one would come by and take your place, so I wouldn't think about you night and day. But none of those girls ever took your place."

"Jace…" Clary whispers, her lip trembling.

He looks away from her watery eyes. "When you said those things to Kaelie," he continues, voice slightly shaky, "all my hopes crashed. You crushed my heart, Clary. I didn't want to face you again, to look at your face and know that you hate me, that you think I'm a sex addict, that you think of me as a monster, that you'll never love me the way I love you."

"I love you, Jace."

Jace's jaw tightened. "Don't pretend Clary. I'd rather know the truth than lies."

Silently, Clary holds out her sketchbook to him. He takes it, confused, but opens it, and whistles. She knows that the first picture he sees is the one she drew of him, in the car.

"You're better than I thought. Although my nose is too big here."

A tear trails down Clary's cheek. "You're still arrogant," she sniffs.

A ghost of a smile lingers at his mouth, but it's exhausted, defeated. He flips through the rest of the pages. "Okay, Clary. Even if you draw pictures of me, it doesn't prove that you love me. You could have drawn this today."

Clary reaches over and flips to the last drawing. It's crumpled and wrinkled, with red ink leaking through from the other side of the page. It's the angel picture. Mrs. Crussafang had taken it that day and marked _No Drawing in Class_ in big red marks on the back and held it up for everyone to see. Then she'd crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash.

Jace's eyes widen. "I thought she threw it away."

"She did," Clary says. "I pulled it out of the trash after class."

"I love this picture," he says, running a hand over the wings.

"This is how I see you, Jace. You're an angel. You're _my_ angel."

She's suddenly wrapped in his arms, her head buried in his chest as she cries. Jace holds her, rocking back and forth. He's trembling too.

"I'm your angel," he whispers into her ear, awe in his voice. "I'm yours."

_What are you talking about, Jace? You were mine from the beginning, and you'll always be mine, forever._

…

"You guys make me sick," Isabelle states, hooking an arm through Simon's. "Let's go, Simon, before I throw up."

Simon grins at Clary, happier than she's ever seen him. Apparently, Clary had been right. Isabelle had been hiding like she had.

Jace plants another soft kiss on Clary's lips. "They make _me_ sick."

"Yeah," Clary says a little breathlessly.

"I mean, my sister with _Simon?_"

Clary pulls away, slapping his butt. "Hey. Watch it there, gorgeous. He's my best friend."

Jace dives in for another stolen kiss. "That makes me jealous," he growls. "My girlfriend is not allowed to have a guy best friend. You'll just have to do with Isabelle."

They stop at the entrance of school, suddenly aware of all the stares. Simon hurries back to Clary, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You won't believe it, Clary. It's big news everywhere. No one can believe that Jace got together with you after you dissed him so badly. It's crazy. Kaelie claims you're a witch."

Jace turns to the stunned crowd. "I love her!" He shouts for everyone to hear. "And she's not a witch," he adds, staring straight at Kaelie.

"Wow," Simon breathes. "I can't believe you just said that."

Jace raises an eyebrow. "Said what?"

"The L-word."

Jace smiles at Clary, who reaches up for another kiss. "Well, I think we've been through enough to know what love really means."

**I was so tempted to just end this whole fanfic there. Because it's kinda the perfect ending! :D with Clary thinking that Jace has been hers forever and Jace saying that they've been through enough to discover what true love is.**

…**but since I promised the epilogue, I'll write it.**

**And this high school story has kinda no action…sorry to those of you who like the action more.**

**But ya know, when in every story, Jace and Clary just meet and then bam, they fall in love and stuff with no complications between themselves and its always some type of external thing that's keeping them apart, its kinda repetitive…**

**Review...**

**Oh, I forgot to mention that what Jace wanted Clary to draw was herself, cause she's so special to him(:**

_**IMPORTANT: **_**tell me what you want to see in the epilogue, and I'll see if I can add it in. Right now, my epilogue word doc is blank. I've got a sketch, but it's so short its only a few hundred words. **


	10. Epilogue

**I know it's been **_**forever**_** since I updated. The irony…forever…haha? Anyway, I had serious writers block for this, and that's why its so sucky this time. So sorry. It was really hard to pull through with this epilogue, but hey, at least I did it instead of leaving it unfinished, which had been a possibility.**

**I've noticed a recent story on MI called Forever and Always by Dance4Ever1279. It is a complete copy of this story's idea, but the author apologized because her friend told her and she didn't know that it wasn't an original idea. She had taken it down, but I've given her permission to continue her story. She's a good writer, so check it out. By the way, Dance4Ever1279, if you're reading this, please don't copy any of my storylines…I noticed u did a medical one with Clara Barton where Clary was the nurse and Jace was the patient…that's like the chapter Shot Through the Heart in here.**

**The core of this long author's note is to thank you guys for suffering through my horrible writing all the way and for putting this story on your alerts and favorites lists! And special special special thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially those of you who reviewed every time!(: This is the first long story I've written. Thank you so much!**

Epilogue

She's dressed in white. The lace cascades from waist down like waves billowing over the sea surface, with intricate flowery designs stitched ever so carefully into the soft material. Her hands are covered in silk white gloves, and her hair, instead of covered with a veil, is wreathed with yellow daisies, just the way Jace likes it. Her red curls frame her face like a heart, and her eyes dance merrily as she chats with her bridesmaids. Nothing can bring her down.

Because today is her wedding. The day she finally belongs to the man she loves with all her heart. The day when he'll swing her into his arms as they exit the church after been declared husband and wife.

The organ starts playing, and as Isabelle and Maia exit in their sweeping gowns, Clary begins feeling nervous. Butterflies torment her stomach – but the good type, she reassures herself.

Finally, as if in a dream, it's her turn. Hooking arms with Luke, she floats down the aisle, oblivious to the family and friends gathered all around her, eyes trained on one person only. Her husband-to-be.

But instead of looking at her, his head is down, and he has a cap on. Weird.

But she shakes off the feeling. After all, it _is_ her wedding day. Her dream come true. She passes by Kaelie, momentarily confused, because she doesn't remember inviting Kaelie. A blond haired guy is sitting next to her, and Kaelie smirks at Clary.

Nevertheless, her eyes drift back to Jace's ducked head as Luke gives her away, and the preacher exclaims, "I now proclaim you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jace finally looks up, and he leans –

It's Simon.

Flashbacks of Kaelie's smirk zaps through her mind. Her mouth opens in a soundless scream.

…

"Wake up, Clary!"

She's shaken awake by rough hands. Jace is holding her, her face pressed against his chest, and Clary realizes that she's crying.

"It was just a bad dream," Jace murmurs. "I'm here for you Clary. I'll always be here for you."

Familiar arms wrap around her under the covers, rubbing warm circles on her abdomen. Not Simon, but Jace. Always Jace. Will always be Jace.

"Getting the jitters for tomorrow?" Jace buries his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"What's tomorrow?"

Jace lightly slaps her butt, and as she makes a noise of irritation, tangles his legs with hers. "Our wedding. I'm kinda glad we decided on a regular wedding – the mortal way."

Her fingers trace over light scars on his back from his last fight with a demon. So close to death, but she'd been there, guarding his back. "Our love runs deeper than the Shadowhunter marriage runes," Clary replies.

_Our love lasts forever._

…

"You may now kiss the bride."

…

They take the baby out to the porch, seating him comfortably between them as they swing gently on their sofa-swing. The sun is just setting, and the sky is lit in a swirl of purple and orange. There's a little wind that ruffles the baby's fine, blond hair.

He has his daddy's golden boy looks, but his bright, green eyes definitely come from his mom. His name, stitched on his blue rib, spells Jonathan. Above his head, his parents kiss.

"Jonathan's almost one now," the man murmurs to his wife, ruffling Jonathan's hair affectionately.

"Time flies," she sighs, tracing her fingers over the black runes on his skin. "Everything flies – people, demons, lives – even Valentine and his horrors. Everything feels like it's slipping away from me, but you. I feel like I've known you forever."

He pulls her in for another kiss, his golden eyes meeting her green ones. "Since the beginning of time, baby," he says against her lips. "Since the beginning of time."

**Short, I know. But did you notice? The baby's name is Jonathan, and in the Wild West, the baby they never had was going to be named Jonathan.**

**I know I've been lousy and don't deserve reviews, but please, please review!**

**Tell me what you liked about this story, or your favorite chapter, or anything! It's the final thing of this story people, so please review(:**


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